From  the  collection  of  the 


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Prejinger 

v    JUibrary 
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San  Francisco,  California 
2006 


IDEAL  ATTAINED; 


The  Story  of  Two  Steadfast  Souls,  and  how  they 
Won  their  Happiness  and  Lost  it  not. 


BY 

ELIZA    W.   FARNHAM, 

AUTHOR     OF     "WOMAX     A  S  1)     HKK     KRA,"     "KLIZA     VTO  O  »  »  O  K,"    K  T  «  . 


••  We  had  experience  of  a  blissful  state, 

In  which  our  powers  of  thought  stood  separata. 
Bach  in  its  own  high  freedom  h«ld  apart, 
Yet  both  close  folded  in  one  loving  heart ; 
So  that  we  seemed,  without  conceit,  to  be 
Both  ont,  and  two,  in  our  identity."  -  UILNM*. 


NEW    YORK: 

0.      M.     PLUMB     .fc     CO.. 

274  CANAL  STBEKT. 
1865. 


F&55 


•  n  "i  yr  T  A  T  T  A    T  /  if  IT 

r  > 1  w  I  r  JL  w-I  /xw.  IA  I 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 
CHARLES     H.      FAENHAM, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


'FRIEND  OF  PROGRESS"  PRINT, 
274  Canal  St.,  New  York. 


Bancroft  Library 


PUBLISHERS'   PREFACE. 


{ 


One  who  gave  her  entire  life  so  sacredly  to  philan- 
thropic  labor  of  hands  or  brain,  as  did  Mrs.  FARNHAM,  would 
be  likely  to  regard  the  production  of  a  work  of  fiction  as 
incidental  and  subordinate. 

The  manuscript  of  the  volume  here  presented  to  the 
public,  was  prepared  some  years  since,  in  a  surprisingly 
brief  time,  and  under  peculiar  circumstances.  It  was  then, 
evidently,  laid  aside  for  other,  and,  as  the  author  believed, 
more  important  work  ;  and  only  during  her  final  illness 
was  it  confided  to  the  care  of  the  Publishers. 

Had  it  been  submitted  to  other  judgment,  an  earlier 
publication  would  doubtless  have  been  secured,  when  it 
could  have  received  the  author's  own  supervision.  The 
want  of  this,  and  the  slight  revision  which  the  manuscript 
has  undergone,  will,  it  is  hoped,  palliate  any  inaccuracies 
that  may  be  discovered. 

The  pictures  of  natural  scenery  upon  the  Pacific  shore, 
and  of  social  life  during  the  early  years  of  California,  will 
be  recognized  as  eminently  faithful.  The  chief  interest 
of  the  work,  however,  lies  in  the  characters  given  to  the 
two  leading  personages,  whose  vivid  portraitures  constitute 
noble  embodiments  of  an  exalted  ideal,  conveying  a  fresh 
and  striking  reflection  of  the  author's  own  rare  and  peculiar 
genius. 


THE   IDEAL  ATTAINED. 


CHAPTER    I. 

At  the  time  when  my  story  commences,  we  had 
been  at  sea  ninety  days.  Our  ship  was  the  Tempest, 
one  of  the  noblest  vessels  which,  then,  had  ever  sailed 
from  New  York  for  San  Francisco.  She  was  called 
clipper-built,  and  though  far  from  equaling  the  later 
structures  of  that  sort,  she  had  made  some  very  quick 
voyages  across  the  Atlantic  and  in  the  China  Seas. 
She  was  a  noble  piece  of  water-craft — clean,  trim,  and 
resolute  looking,  though,  to  my  eyes,  her  tall  masts, 
and  slender  yards,  and  innumerable  lines  of  rope, 
looked  more  like  a  fairy  bridge  between  us  and  cloud- 
land,  than  any  substantial  means  of  more  material 
progress. 

The  Tempest  had  changed  owners  and  master  lor 
the  California  voyage,  and  our  expectations  of  great 
speed  seemed  likely  to  be  sadly  disappointed,  through 
lack  of  some  quality  in  Captain  Landon,  which  pre- 
vented him  from  making  the  most  of  her  sailing  quali- 
ties. In  all  other  respects  he  was  an  admirable 
commander.  Good  discipline,  that  was  never  cruel, 
prevailed  everywhere  in  his  little  kingdom,  and  when, 


6  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

in  our  eagerness,  we  questioned  him,  with  spurring 
intent,  about  our  progress,  he  replied  that  he  preferred 
sailing  upon  the  sea  to  going  through  it ;  and  that  a 
man  who  had  doubled  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  six 
times,  and  the  Horn  four,  would  scarcely  be  in  so 
great  a  hurry  to  get  around  the  fifth  time,  as  younger 
men  who  had  had  less  experience. 

We  all  liked  Captain  Landon  heartily.  He  was 
social  and  kind,  and  in  his  relations  to  all  on  board 
his  vessel  he  was  uniformly  and  unexceptionably  the 
conscientious,  high-minded  gentleman.  Nevertheless, 
and  it  perhaps  proves  the  ingratitude  and  hardness  of 
our  hearts,  there  were  words  sometimes  coupled  with 
his  name,  in  our  deck  and  state-room  chats,  which 
showed  that,  to  the  speakers,  all  his  virtues  did  not 
atone  for  the  one  capital  lack  of  swiftness.  Beware, 
O  ye  who  conduct  the  vehicular  progress  of  sovereign 
Americans,  how  you  suffer  the  winds  of  heaven  to  out- 
strip you ! 

Ninety  days,  I  told  you,  we  had  been  out,  yet  the 
Captain  would  not  talk  of  less  than  twenty-five  more — 
it  was  more  likely,  he  said,  to  be  thirty-five.  The 
truth  was,  that,  having  a  hint,  without  specific  direc- 
tions for  following  Maury's  proposed  theory  of  navi- 
gating the  Pacific,  he  was  making  an  attempt  thereto 
by  running  very  much  farther  west  than  he  ever  had 
before ;  and  we  were  naturally  more  impatient  of  every 
day's  delay,  which  seemed  to  our  ignorance  possibly 
attributable  to  this  experiment,  than  we  should  have 
been  to  any  occurring  in  the  legitimate  routes.  Cap- 
tain Landon  spoke  little  of  our  position  at  this  time, 
and  we  thought  would  much  have  preferred  finding 
himself  a  few  degrees  eastward  of  this  undesirable  spot. 
For  we  were  in  an  ocean  of  dead  calm,  glassy,  shining, 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  7 

unrippled  by  breath  of  air  or  swell  of  wave — the  sails 
depending  like  idle  rags  from  the  spars,  and  the  steady 
sun  pouring  his  glare  and  heat  mercilessly  upon  us, 
from  the  hour  of  rising  till  the  last  level  rays  smote 
us  across  the  western  sea.  What  could  we  do  but 
suffer? 

Our  company  in  the  cabin  was  small,  numbering  only 
nine  beside  the  Captain — three  ladies,  four  gentlemen, 
and  two  children.  I  will  introduce  the  least  important 
personages  to  you  first,  and  we  shall  then  be  at  rest 
about  them,  for  it  is  not  their  experience  I  am  going  to 
give  you.  There  were  two  of  them  to  whom  I  believed 
no  experience  ever  had  come,  or  ever  would  come, 
which  could  by  any  possible  stretching  be  made  to  fit 
and  clothe  a  human  soul. 

There  was  Mr.  Wilkes,  an  invalid  schoolmaster, 
whose  only  relaxation,  beside  drinking  peppermint- 
water,  between  breakfast  and  luncheon,  and  between 
luncheon  and  dinner,  was  singing  psalms,  accompany- 
ing himself  on  a  tuning-fork.  Mr.  Wilkes  was  slight 
and  small  in  person,  with  large  eyes  that  had  apparent- 
ly faded  with  his  waning  vitality,  for  around  the  rims 
of  the  irids  there  was  yet  visible  a  lingering  tint  of 
yellowish  gray,  while  within  it  had  all  vanished,  and 
given  place  to  a  dingy  buttermilk  hue ;  the  dreariest 
eyes — especially  when  the  peppermint-water  was  in 
hand,  which  was  the  great  part  of  every  day — that 
were  ever  seen.  Mr.  Wilkes  was  going  to  California 
for  his  health — and  recreation,  he  sometimes  added. 
Truth  to  tell,  I  think  the  poor  man  had  little  of  the 
ruling  motive,  in  his  travel,  which  was  then  filling  that 
devoted  State  with  the  adventurous,  the  avaricious, 
the  ambitious,  the  dishonest,  and  the  criminal  of  the 
whole  earth.  There  was  scarcely  nature  enough  in  his 


8  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

little  weazen  body  and  respectable  soul,  for  so  much 
rugged  purpose  to  find  lodgment.  His  stated 
pleasantry  in  regard  to  worldly  prospects  in  that 
wicked,  thriving  country,  was,  that,  "if  they  gave 
him  nothing,  they  would  not  get  much  out  of  him, 
either,"  for  he  had  only  taken  enough  to  pay  his 
expenses  back;  and  he  seemed  to  consider  that,  in 
this  acuteness,  he  had  over-reached  the  Californians  in 
the  most  unprecedented  and  triumphant  manner. 

"  I  can  teach  singing  there,  Miss  Warren,"  he 
would  say — he  was  disposed  to  be  rather  confidential 
at  times  with  me,  or,  more  strictly  speaking,  to  avail 
himself  of  the  only  patient  ears  he  could  ever  command 
among  us  ladies — "  I  can  teach  singing,  but  I  should 
not  like  to  undertake  a  school  till  my  health  is  im- 
proved. It  is  very  laborious,  Miss  Warren,  to  teach  a 
school.  I  have  taught  fourteen  years  in  one  house, 
and  I  always  found  it  very  laborious.  It  injures  a 
man's  health  in  time,  and  mine  is  so  much  impaired, 
that  I  thought  a  voyage  would  do  me  good.  If  I 
don't  gain,  I  shall  not  lose  anything,  because,  as  I  told 
you  before,  I  took  good  care  not  to  bring  any  more 
money  with  me  than  would  take  me  home  again,  and 
I  left  my  wife  and  daughter  very  comfortably  settled 
in  our  own  house  in  Millville." 

You  will  understand,  now,  that  it  was  a  great  merit 
in  me  to  stop  and  hear,  every  two  or  three  days,  such 
a  statement  of  his  personal  affairs  and  prospects — 
sometimes  prolonged  much  beyond  this,  without  the 
addition,  however,  of  another  idea,  and  always  ending 
in  the  pleasant  consolation  of  the  wife  and  daughter 
and  the  little  house  at  Millville.  If  these  talks  lacked 
interest  and  originality  to  me,  they  did  not  to  him  ; 
and  in  the  tedium  of  a  voyage  one  is  so  thoroughly 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  9 

put  down  to  what  one  can  bear,  that  you  are  uncon- 
scious how  very  trivial  the  things  often  are  which 
serve  to  occupy  you,  and  make  you  believe  you  are 
being  entertained,  or  even  interested. 

Mr.  Pedes  was  one  of  the  traveling  members  of  a 
New  England  Scientific  Association,  and  was  going  to 
California  and  Mexico  as  entomologist  and  taxidermist 
for  that  body.  He  had  the  full  measure  of  indifference 
to  personal  appearance  that  was  requisite  in  a  scien- 
tific man ;  wore  often  soiled  linen,  the  membranes,  by 
all  outward  indications,  being  in  a  state  of  adaptation 
thereto ;  lingered  obstinately  over  his  text-books  and 
treatises — affirmed  by  Agassiz  ;  and  plainly  enough 
hinted,  when  he  did  talk,  that  American  science  would 
be  largely  indebted,  a  few  years  hence,  to  the  Society 
which  was  devoting  men  and  means  to  exploration  and 
harvest  on  the  Pacific  coast,  in  the  face  of  all  the  diffi- 
culties which  the  scientific  man  had  then  to  meet 
there.  Mr.  Pedes  was,  perhaps,  not  a  churlish  man. 
I  think  he  was  really  devoted  to  his  pursuits,  with  an 
absorbing  interest  in  them,  and  a  substantial  gratitude 
that  he  was  thereby  segregated  from  the  men  and 
women  in  the  world  who  were  not  so  blest.  He  was 
my  vis-a-vis  at  table,  and  I  remember  the  leading  idea 
in  my  mind,  for  many  of  our  first  days,  in  meeting 
him  there,  bore  reference  to  the  personal  traits  referred 
to.  After  I  became  accustomed  to  him,  the  import- 
ance of  toilet  measures  did  somewhat  fall  off;  and 
when,  occasionally,  he  talked  to  us,  in  the  lecture-room 
style,  on  the  vertebrata  and  the  invertebrata,  the  vim- 
para  and  the  ovipara,  I  even  became  so  reconciled  to 
him,  that  I  used,  sometimes,  in  the  dreariest  dullness, 
to  wish  he  had  the  same  necessities  for  communicating 
and  receiving  that  other  human  beings  feel.  Because, 


10  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

you  see,  our  circle  was  small,  and  every  accessible  soul 
was  so  much  resource  to  each  of  us. 

Our  third  man,  going  upward,  was  Mr.  Garth,  the 
youngest  of  them  all — a  native  of  New  York  and 
graduate  of  Yale.  Since  that  venerable  mother  had  sent 
him  into  the  world,  he  had  traveled  over  his  own  coun- 
try and  visited  Europe,  and  he  seemed  to  have  ques- 
tioned men  and  things  to  some  purpose,  for  he  had 
clear  and  ready  ideas,  when  the  way  of  expression  was 
opened  to  him ;  could  relate  much  that  he  had  seen 
and  remembered,  always  in  choice  and  easy  terms; 
and  was,  altogether,  an  agreeable,  accomplished  per- 
son. But  there  was  a  fragility  in  his  physical  and 
mental  being.  He  lacked,  as  so  many  of  our  young 
men  do,  the  sturdiness  of  body  that  is  indispensable  to 
an  enduring,  complete,  and  full  life.  His  chest  was 
narrow  and  thin,  and  his  muscular  system  light,  so 
that  I  always  felt,  in  thinking  of  his  future,  that  if  one 
of  the  heavy  strokes  of  experience  should  fall  upon  him, 
he  would  be  unable  to  sustain  himself  against  it.  He 
was  not  only  fragile,  but  had  that  peculiarly  clear,  pale 
blue  eye,  which  indicates  the  most  perishable  or  unre- 
sisting fragility.  Yet  Mr.  Garth  had  tolerable  health, 
and  like  a  sensible  man,  set  a  high  value  upon  it,  with- 
out possessing,  however,  much  practical  knowledge  of 
the  laws  by  which  it  could  be  preserved  or  increased. 
His  Alma  Mater  had  instructed  him  in  the  conjuga- 
tions and  inflections  of  the  Greek,  Hebrew  and  Latin 
verbs ;  had  stored  his  mind  with  the  poetry  of  Homel- 
and Yirgil — the  wisdom  of  Plato  and  Socrates ;  she 
had  given  him  much  useful  and  dignified  knowledge 
of  the  sciences  external  to  himself,  but  had  not  taught 
him  one  physiological  law  by  which  the  life,  thus  en- 
nobled, could  be  made  stronger  and  more  efficient. 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  11 

Nay,  she  had,  in  all  probability,  weakened  it  by  her 
own  neglect  of  these  in  the  treatment  she  had  bestowed 
on  him.  Thus,  Mr.  Garth  did  not  understand  the 
value  of  daily  bathing.  The  comfort  of  it  in  warm 
climates  led  him  to  practice  it,  but  off  Cape  Horn  we 
'never  had  to  wait  for  him  to  vacate  the  bath-room. 
He  was  ignorant  that  the  very  strong  tea  and  coffee, 
served  at  our  breakfast-  and  dinner-tables,  were  like 
fire  or  poison  to  his  unshielded  nervous  system ;  he  did 
not  know  that  the  hot  bread  he  ate  every  morning 
made  a  direct  attack  upon  his  digestive  energies,  which 
had  scarcely  power  to  accomplish  their  function  upon 
it ;  and  he  would  not  have  believed,  if  any  one  had 
told  him,  that  it  was  better  his  lungs  should  be  sup- 
plied with  pure  air  while  asleep,  even  though,  to  accom- 
plish it,  a  cold  current  should  have  to  be  admitted 
directly  to  his  room. 

Alma  Mater  had  not  descended  to  trivial  and  mod- 
ern instruction  like  this,  and  as  none  of  the  schools 
had  given  it  to  him  before  he  went  to  her,  and  his 
father  and  mother  were,  in  all  probability,  as  ignorant 
of  it  as  himself,  or  as  any  learned  professor  of  mathe- 
matics or  languages,  he  was  now  in  a  state  of  blessed 
unconsciousness  that,  instead  of  fortifying  and  strength- 
ening his  health  and  manhood  by  his  daily  habits,  he 
was  slowly  and  steadily  undermining  them.  If  he  had 
an  Ideal  of  manhood,  it  was  of  the  spiritual,  apart 
from  and  almost  ignoring  the  physical.  He  was  now 
in  quest  both  of  adventure  and  fortune,  and,  with  a 
few  thousand  dollars  in  hand,  was  going,  in  this  not 
greedy,  hasty  manner,  to  California,  with  the  hope  of 
multiplying  it,  in  some  honorable  and  just  way,  to 
many  thousands,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  seeing  some 
phases  of  life  that  were  not  offered  to  him  elsewhere. 


12  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

Our  remaining  gentleman  was  Colonel  Anderson. 
He  was  a  Briton  by  birth,  but  of  Danish-English  ex- 
traction ;  and  in  his  person  were  combined  the  phy- 
sical perfection  and  elegance  of  both  these  finely 
developed  nations.  His  stature  exceeded  six  feet,  but 
every  line  of  the  hight  and  breadth  which  made  up  his 
Herculean  form  was  cased  in  Nature's  royal  mold  of 
masculine  beauty.  His  chest  was  deep,  and  the  voice 
that  flowed  from  it,  like  the  joyous  west  wind  for  full- 
ness ;  his  shoulders  were  broad  and  square,  but  grace- 
fully set  above  the  clean  lines  which  narrowed  steadily 
downward  to  the  thin  flank ;  and  while  his  muscular 
figure  had  barely  that  roundness  which  is  compatible 
with  manly  elegance,  his  motions  were  as  lithe  and 
supple  as  a  leopard's.  Colonel  Anderson's  head  would 
have  delighted  the  eyes  of  the  most  enthusiastic  disci- 
ple of  Gall  or  Spurzheim,  the  active  brain  manifestly 
filling  all  the  space  allotted  to  it ;  and  his  features  had 
the  clear  cut,  promptly  defined  lines  of  the  English 
face,  with  the  frankness  and  spirit  of  the  northern 
countenance.  His  large  dark-blue  eye  gleamed  occa- 
sionally with  the  true  fire  of  the  old  Norse  soul,  and 
at  such  moments  there  seemed  to  flash  upon  us  the 
likeness  of  some  ancient  Jaol  or  Viking,  whose  motto 
might  have  been,  "No  obstacle  to  my  purpose  but 
death." 

He  was  accomplished,  social  and  spontaneous  to 
a  degree  that  was  very  un-American,  and  un-Eng- 
lish, too,  indeed ;  yet  there  ran  through  this  warm, 
impulsive,  piquant  character,  a  vein  of  steadiness,  that 
was  thoroughly  English,  and  that  was  capable,  upon 
provocation,  of  becoming  reserve  as  proud  and  freezing 
to  unwarranted  familiarity,  as  the  purest  British  blood 
could  feel.  Externally,  he  was  all  Dane,  and  it  was 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  13 

an  apology  which  at  once  extenuated  and  character- 
ized his  little  social  offenses  when  he  said,  "  The  wind 
was  from  the  north  at  that  moment,"  or,  "  Then  spoke 
that  blessed  father  of  mine."  Colonel  Anderson's 
paternity  was  his  great  pride — though  he  had  been 
born  in  England,  and  all  his  life  identified  with  Brit- 
ish institutions  and  power.  He  had  been  in  the  East 
Indies  and  South  Africa ;  afterward  on  the  Grand  Canal, 
with  Mehemit  Ali,  and  roaming  about  the  Mediterra- 
nean, especially  the  Italian  States ;  had  leapt  headlong 
into  the  arms  of  Mazzini  and  the  Liberals  ;  chafing  and 
fretting  there,  between  inaction  and  hope,  till  the  day 
came  when  those  noblest  men  of  the  country  were  driven 
from  it — when  the  Revolution  of  '48  seemed  to  have 
proved  but  a  poor  futility,  and  all  the  manly,  courageous 
love  of  liberty  was  crushed  into  silence  or  driven  from 
the  Continent,  as  if  it  had  been  the  most  pestilent  and 
ruinous  presence  that  could  afflict  the  people.  Then 
he  had  come  to  England,  and  was  about  buying  a  com- 
mission, to  reenter  the  army,  in  the  hope  that  thereby 
some  worthy  work  would  come  to  his  hand,  when  the 
desire  to  see  America  seized  him.  He  came,  and  had 
spent  a  year  between  the  Free  and  Slave  States  and 
the  great  West ;  and  now,  apparently  somewhat  to  his 
own  astonishment,  he  was  a  passenger  on  board  a  ship 
to  California.  I  have  told  you  here  much  of  his  his- 
tory that  we  did  not  know  till  long  after  the  time  I  am 
now  speaking  of. 

You  are  already  thinking,  I  know,  that  the  man  I 
have  described  was  one  whom  all  women  of  the  weaker 
sort  would  call  adorable,  or  perfect,  or  splendid ;  and 
whom  the  stronger  would  admire  profoundly,  and 
pronounce  in  an  under-tone,  magnificent.  He  had 
genius  of  a  sort  not  grown  by  the  intellect  alone.  His 


14:  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

power,  his  frankness,  his  directness,  his  love  of  young 
children,  and  capacity  to  enter  into  and  increase  their 
happiness,  his  unmistakable  and  unerring  sympathy 
with  the  right,  in  all  questions,  however  great  or 
trivial,  gave  him  the  position  of  a  commanding  person. 
His  experience  had  been  various  and  large,  and  from  it 
he  had  gathered  much  of  all  sorts  of  knowledge :  know- 
ledge of  general  subjects,  of  science,  of  men,  of  opinions, 
and  of  practical,  daily  doings,  which  he  could  and  would 
use  in  the  promptest  and  most  efficient  manner,  when 
occasion  required.  After  this,  I  have  no  need  to  tell 
you  that  I  admired  him  exceedingly,  and  that,  but  for 
my  being  an  acknowledged  old  maid,  whom  any  good 
man  like  him,  in  the  course  of  a  long  sea  voyage, 
would  naturally  come  to  treat  with  the  frankness  and 
unceremony  of  a  sister  or  old  friend,  I  have  little  doubt 
that  I  should  have  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  him. 

Of  the  two  ladies  beside  myself,  one  was  a  Mrs. 
Farley ;  and  when  I  prefix  the  article,  and  give  her 
name,  I  give  the  measure  of  her  individuality;  for 
Mrs.  Farley,  beside  her  name,  consisted  of  eight  or  ten 
or  twelve  boxes  and  trunks  of  clothing — costly,  fash- 
ionable clothing,  understand,  all  new — and  a  smallish, 
slight,  genteel  person,  on  which,  as  a  foundation,  with 
whalebone  and  cotton,  a  most  respectable,  showy,  and 
with  due  help  of  outside  materials,  even  an  imposing 
looking  woman  was  sometimes  gotten  up  for  occasions. 
Without  the  extras,  and  let  down  from  the  dignity 
which  they  maintained  by  taking,  she  was  a  little, 
gossiping,  weak,  complaining  woman ;  somewhat  bit- 
ter, but  never  malignant — hardly  positive  enough  for 
that ;  a  negative,  small  existence,  for  whom  the  great 
danger  was  that  we  should  utterly  forget  when  she  was 
out  of  our  sight. 

The  two  children  were  the  sons  of  the  lady  whom  I 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  15 

have  not  introduced — Mrs.  Bromfield.  Their  father 
had  been  more  than  three  years  dead,  and  was  buried 
away  on  one  of  the  remote  islands  of  the  purple  South 
Seas,  of  which,  whenever  I  looked  into  her  serious  face 
and  great  brown  eyes,  she  seemed  to  be  dreaming.  I 
could  see  whole  groves  of  cocoa-nut  and  stately  palms 
reflected  in  their  depths. 

In  detail,  Mrs.  Bromfield  was  not  handsome.  Taken 
singly,  every  feature  of  her  face  except  the  eyes  might 
be  pronounced  plain.  Her  full  lips  had  such  decided 
curves  in  their  chiseled  lines,  that  I  used  to  think,  in 
looking  on  them,  the  mouth  lacked  tenderness,  and 
expressed  strength  and  pride,  rather  than  love.  Her 
forehead  was  broad,  with  a  massive  projecting  form,  as 
unlike  as  you  can  imagine  to  the  smooth,  characterless 
delicacy  of  shape  so  much  praised  in  women.  Even  the 
un envious  and  admiring  did  not  often  render  the  verdict 
"  beautiful,"  after  examining  her  impressive  face.  And 
yet  many  such  looked  on  her,  for  she  was  one  of  the 
few  women  who  are  universally  admired,  without  that 
coveted  gift,  beauty — a  rarer  and  more  enviable  lot 
than  to  possess  it. 

She  was  a  clear,  warm  brunette,  with  a  gorgeous 
head  of  hair,  that  seemed  to  change,  by  the  light  and 
shadow  upon  it,  from  dark  purple  to  raven  black.  And 
those  who  saw  her  only  when  the  full  interior  life  was 
kindled  and  aflame  with  glorious  imaginations,  or  with 
resentment,  or  with  the  towering  pride  that  repelled 
uninvited  approach,  were  always  heard  to  affirm  that 
the  flash  of  those  black  eyes  would  make  the  bravest 
soul  cower  before  her. 

On  this  day  such  an  occurrence  had  happened,  of 
which  I  alone  was  witness  ;  but  the  words  it  had 
called  forth  from  her  to  the  offender  had  got  to  wind, 
and  Mr.  Garth,  who  was  a  secret  worshiper  of  hers — 


16  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

or  who  thought  he  was,  though  I  had  caught  his  secret 
weeks  before — was  talking  it  over  with  me,  and  saying 
something  about  the  scorching  black  eyes,  when  little 
Phil,  her  youngest  boy,  who  had  strolled  near  us,  and 
now  stood  unnoticed,  leaning  on  a  coil  of  rope,  said, 
"My  mother  hasn't  dot  black  eyes,  Mis'r  Darf. 
They're  only  black  when  somebody's  naughty  to  her — 
'ats  all  'ey  are." 

The  speaker  started,  and  laughing,  tossed  Phil  up 
to  a  seat  on  the  rail,  encircling  him  there  with  his 
arms,  wrhere  he  fell  into  one  of  his  mother's  dreams, 
gazing  down  into  the  deep,  deep  sea.  There  was  the 
slenderest  of  all  possible  new  moons — a  mere  line  of 
pearly  light — looking  up  at  him  from  the  still  depths — 
it  seemed  in  the  calm  to  be  miles  below — and  shim- 
mering stars,  a  very  few  of  the  boldest,  which  had 
ventured  out  of  their  azure  palaces  before  the  sunset 
fires  of  the  tropical  sky  had  been  quite  extinguished, 
though  the  sea  was  heaving  in  long,  lazy  surges,  right 
into  them. 

Mr.  "  Darf"  and  Phil  were  very  fond  of  each 
other.  The  child  was  indeed  irresistible,  and  Mr. 
Garth,  who  was  generous  and  affectionate  enough  to 
have  loved  him  heartily  for  himself,  was  still  more 
drawn  to  him  by  his  unavowed  love  for  his  mother. 
He  never  approached  or  addressed  this  lady,  but  in  a 
most  respectful  and  even  reverential  manner ;  but  if  I 
had  eyes  and  could  see  at  all,  he  devoured  every  word 
and  movement  with  a  heart-yearning  that  it  pained  me 
to  behold.  He  rarely  named  her  to  a  third  person, 
and  then  in  such  scanty  and  guarded  speech,  that  one 
less  keen  of  observation  than  I  flatter  myself  I  am, 
would  have  thought  that  her  being  or  not  being  were 
much  the  same  to  him.  But,  as  I  said,  on  this  day 
there  had  happened  an  incident  in  our  monotonous  life. 


CHAPTEK    II. 

We  had  been  five  days  wearing  out  a  calm — a 
calm  there  in  the  Pacific,  where,  I  think,  they 
seem  more  hopeless  than  in  any  other  waters.  We 
were  impatient,  wearied,  restless  —  at  times  almost 
fiercely  so.  Every  resource  had  been  over  and  over 
again  exhausted — chess,  draughts,  cards,  backgam- 
mon ;  even  dominoes  with  Phil  and  Harry ;  books, 
music,  and  conversation.  But  Mrs.  Bromfield,  who 
always  stood  much  above  our  common  vexations,  and, 
whatever  she  suffered,  suffered  in  a  kind  of  queenly 
silence,  had  not  come  down  to  our  level  of  complaint. 
She  was  absorbed  in  reading  and  making  critical  anno- 
tations upon  that  wonderful  book  of  Lamartine's,  the 
History  of  Les  Girondins ;  and  she  pored  over  it  from 
early  morning  till  the  hour  for  extinguishing  the  lights, 
excepting  only  the  times  of  walking  with  the  boys  and 
amusing  or  caressing  them.  She  was  a  fond  mother, 
but  an  intellectual  woman  also;  and  her  children, 
though  loving  her  passionately,  and  fearing  her  not  at 
all,  generally  understood  when  mamma  had  the  read- 
ing or  the  thinking  face  on,  and  sought  amusement 
and  entertainment,  for  the  time,  elsewhere. 

It  had  been  very  warm  in  the  morning,  and  I  was 
lying  on  the  sofa,  in  my  state-room,  with  a  headache. 
I  was  fretful  and  impatient,  and  foolishly  aggravated 


18  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

my  discomforts  by  keeping  them  in  the  balance,  and 
making  hourly  computation  of  their  amount  and 
force.  I  was  doing  this  for  the  hundredth  time,  when 
I  heard  a  light,  yet  measured  tread,  and  the  soft  rustle 
of  a  dress,  and  turning  my  aching  eyes  quickly,  I  saw 
Mrs.  Bromfield's  ample  but  unshowy  draperies  just 
disappearing  past  my  door.  I  called  her  name. 

"  Are  you  ill  ?"  she  asked,  kindly,  turning  back,  and 
entering  my  room. 

"  'Not  ill,  dear  Mrs.  Bromfield,  but  so  horribly  tired, 
and  worried,  and  parched,  in  this  lifeless  air ;  and  I 
have  a  severe  headache  here" — placing  my  hands 
across  the  top  of  my  head. 

I  always  liked  her  near  me  when  I  felt  thus.  The 
calmness,  and  order,  and  sweetness  of  her  life  seemed 
to  overflow  and  soothe  me.  She  was  like  breezes  from 
the  hills,  laden  with  the  perfume  of  flowers,  and  the 
odors  of  woodlands,  and  the  glorious  sunshine.  And 
she  really  had  an  infinite  fund  of  tenderness,  which 
immediately  closed  up  the  distance  between  her  and 
others  when  she  saw  them  suffering. 

"  Shall  I  cure  your  headache  ?"  she  asked,  with  a 
smile,  laying  her  cool,  soft  hand  on  my  brow,  and  pass- 
ing it  gently  over  my  temples. 

"  Oh,  if  you  will,  I  shall  be  very  thankful,"  I 
replied  ;  "  and  impart  to  me  some  of  your  own  equa- 
nimity and  self-adjusting  power,  for  I  am  miserably 


nervous." 


She  sat  down  on  the  stool  beside  me,  and  talked  in 
those  low,  deep  tones,  peculiarly  her  own,  which,  while 
I  was  hearing  them,  I  always  wondered  how  anybody 
could  resist,  and,  without  apparently  doing  anything, 
except  for  mere  idleness,  as  it  were,  letting  her  hands 
wander  about  my  head.  She  had,  in  a  few  minutes, 


THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED.  19 

banished  my  pain.  The  magnetic  interchange  had  re- 
established me,  in  a  measure,  and  I  was  ashamed,  on 
opening  my  eyes  and  looking  into  her  thoughtful  face, 
to  feel  how  much  I  was  indebted  to  this  superior  life, 
and  how  easily  it  had  penetrated  and  restored  my  own 
to  harmony. 

I  had  never  spoken  directly  to  her  of  these  things, 
but  now  I  said :  "  What  would  I  not  give  for  the 
power  you  possess  of  containing  yourself  and  affecting 
others  so  happily !" 

"  I  believe  I  have  little  more,"  she  replied,  "  than 
all  well-balanced  and  developed  persons  possess,  if  they 
would  exercise  it.  But,  Miss  Warren,  all  good  gifts 
wither  if  they  are  not  used.  I  have  no  doubt  that  God 
gives  us  all  equally  precious  treasure  and  talent,  if  we 
could  but  be  born  with  good  bodies  and  brains,  through 
which  they  could  prove  themselves,  and  attain  to  free 
growth.  You  need  to  be  taken  away  from  yourself 
just  now.  Will  you  come  with  me  into  the  cabin — 
there  is  no  one  there — and  hear  me  read  a  poem  of 
Mrs.  Browning's  ?  It  will  help  you  to  forget  your 
discomforts." 

There  could  be  no  greater  pleasure  offered  to  me 
than  this,  for  Mrs.  Bromfield  was  perfect  in  the  rare 
art  of  reading.  Her  voice  charmed  the  ear,  and  so 
much  of  her  own  nature  flowed  out  in  the  few  grand 
things  she  ever  condescended  to  read  aloud,  that  one 
forgot  at  the  moment  she  was  reading  the  language  of 
another,  and  felt  the  actual  presence  of  a  great  soul 
uttering  itself  in  words  and  tones  of  fire,  or  scorn,  or 
tenderness,  or  grief,  as  these  sentiments  prevailed  in 
the  writer. 

I  followed  upon  her  invitation,  and  we  sat  down 
alone  on  the  transom  in  the  stern-cabin.  Phil  and 


20  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

Harry  were  at  a  game  of  romps  on  deck,  with  Mr. 
Garth  and  Colonel  Anderson — such  romps  as  can  be 
played  in  tropical  latitudes,  consisting  of  little  motion, 
much  amusing  speech,  and  a  deal  of  idle  laughter. 
But  the  children  were  entertained  by  them,  and  their 
mother,  after  listening  for  a  moment  to  assure  herself 
that  they  had  companions,  opened  her  book,  and  com- 
menced reading  "  Lady  Geraldine's  Courtship. '' 
She  sat  near  the  door,  with  her  back  toward  it,  and, 
consequently,  did  not  notice  what  I  saw — that,  shortly 
after  she  began,  Colonel  Anderson  came  down  the 
steps,  and  remained  standing  through  the  whole  read- 
ing, within  a  hand's-breadth  of  her  shoulders. 

Bear  in  mind,  in  judging  of  the  act  which  followed, 
that  we  had  been  three  months  shut  up  in  the  narrow 
compass  of  a  ship,  a  small  company  of  us,  and  that 
that  length  of  time,  there,  would  establish  between 
persons  of  any  congeniality  an  acquaintance  and  free- 
dom equal  to  that  of  a  year,  or  even  years,  in  more 
general  society. 

How  she  swept  through  the  interview  of  the  excited 
poet  with  his  mistress,  and  triumphed  with  him  in  the 
words : 

"  I  am  worthy  of  your  loving,  for  I  love  you — 
I  am  worthy  as  a  king  "  1 

At  that  instant  was  it  a  flash  of  lightning  that  struck 
her !  did  a  thunderbolt  fall  on  her  scathed  forehead, 
and  purple  its  broad  surface,  and  swell  those  blue  veins 
to  such  painful  fullness  ?  IsTo,  but  something  as  deadly 
to  her  high  and  pure  pride.  A  hand  had  been  placed 
upon  each  cheek,  and  her  head  upturned  so  suddenly, 
that,  before  she  could  lift  her  own  hands,  a  bearded 
face  had  swept  her  brow,  and  left  a  kiss  imprinted 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  21 

there — which  she  seemed  indignantly  to  clutch  away 
and  trample  under  her  as  she  rose  to  her  feet.  She 
turned,  facing  the  door,  and  the  strong  light  fell  upon 
her  countenance,  which  my  weak  nerves  trembled  to 
look  upon.  There  stood  the  offender  before  her,  and  I 
suppose  I  shall  never  again  behold  such  a  scene  as  that 
encounter.  I  have  endeavored  to  describe  Colonel 
Anderson  to  you,  but  I  fear  you  do  not  see  him  now 
as  I  saw  him  then.  His  naturally  fair  complexion  had 
been  bronzed  by  long  exposure  to  torrid  suns,  but  its 
even  and  finely-shaded  color  showed  that  all  the  cur- 
rents of  life  yet  had  their  full  and  equable  play  within. 
In  one  hand  he  held  his  broad  Panama  hat,  and  with 
the  other  he  tossed  back,  from  time  to  time,  the  masses 
of  light,  redundant  hair,  which  the  merest  breath  of 
wind  served  to  displace.  He  had  the  health  and  nerve 
of  a  lion,  and,  therefore,  I  thought,  was  not  likely  to  be 
daunted  even  by  the  swelling  form  and  resentful  eyes 
which  now  confronted  him. 

"  Sir !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bromfield,  from  the  far- 
away, awful  hight  whither  she  had  withdrawn  herself, 
"  sir,  have  you  any  excuse  for  the  outrage  you  have 
perpetrated  on  me  ?"  and  again  she  clutched  nervously 
at  the  spot  which  seemed  to  burn  upon  her  forehead. 

"  None,  I  fear,"  was  the  reply,  "  that  you  will  ac- 
cept from  me,  though  you  have  just  considered  it  very 
good  from  the  lips  of  another.  Love  !" 

"  You  insult  me  still  further,  sir,"  she  said,  drop- 
ping her  eyes  for  the  first  time  before  the  passionate 
tenderness  that  overflowed  from  his. 

I  began  to  feel  de  trop,  yet  had  some  hesitation 
about  leaving  my  friend  at  that  moment. 

She  stood,  awaiting  his  reply,  which  came,  slowly 
and  painfully,  through  his  misty  eyes  as  well  as  from 
his  quivering  lips. 


W2,  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"If  the  purest  and  truest  love  of  which  a  man's 
heart  is  capable  is  an  insult " 

"  Colonel  Anderson,"  she  interrupted,  "  your  words 
are  strangely  unbefitting  the  time  and  place." 

I  rose,  but  Mrs.  Bromfield  staid  and  seated  me  by  a 
gesture  of  her  hand,  without  turning  her  eyes  toward 
me.  "  You  must  not  go,  Miss  Warren,"  she  said. 
But  you,  sir  " — and  again  her  eyes  drooped  before  the 
appealing  tenderness  of  his — "  have  been  guilty  of  a 
rudeness,  not  to  call  it  by  a  harsher  name,  which,  as  a 
gentleman,  I  expect  you  to  apologize  fully  for,  in 
presence  of  Miss  Warren ;  and  henceforth  we  are 
strangers." 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  I  never  did  a  wrong,  to  my 
knowledge,  that  I  could  not  heartily  apologize  for,  the 
moment  I  saw  it  to  be  such  ;  and  I  certainly  shall  not 
now  withhold  from  the  one  person  who  fills  the  uni- 
verse to  me,  any  expression  she  may  demand,  to  heal 
the  hurt  I  have  given.  I  was  betrayed  by  your  voice 
and  those  noble  lines  beyond  the  constraint  I  have  put 
on  myself  for  the  last  four  months ;  and  if  the  rash  act, 
by  which  I  could  not  forbear  expressing  the  one  senti- 
ment and  hope  for  which  I  live,  was  offensive  to  you, 
I  can  only  say,  that,  as  deeply  as  you  scorn,  I  regret 
it.  I  did  not,  at  the  moment,  duly  weigh  the  differ- 
ence between  a  character  drawn  in  fine  words,  on 
paper,  and  one  clothed  with  warm,  throbbing  life. 
Have  I  said  enough  ?" 

"  Enough !"  and  she  waved  her  hand,  as  dismiss- 
ing him. 

I  saw  she  was  becoming  pale,  and  feared,  notwith- 
standing her  great  firmness,  that  she  could  scarcely 
bear  up  against  the  strength  of  his  last  words  and 
tones.  He  drew  back  a  step,  and  stood  in  the  door- 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  23 

way,  his  magnificent  figure,  like  a  Hercules  in  its  glory, 
fully  revealed,  and  his  fine  face  overspread  with  the 
dew  of  an  emotion,  which,  it  was  plain,  worked  its  way 
irresistibly  up  from  the  depths  of  his  great  heart. 
Often  before,  when  seeing  these  persons  for  a  moment 
side  by  side,  I  had  thought  what  a  pair  they  would 
make.  I  thought  so  now  again,  when  they  stood 
there  still,  face  to  face — for  she  would  not  sit  while  he 
remained,  and  it  seemed  impossible  for  him  to  go. 
I  wished  that  she  would  release  me,  and  let  him  speak, 
and  I  moved  to  try  her,  but  she  stretched  forth  her 
hand  again  imperiously,  and  stood  now,  as  if  she  were 
watching  him. 

He  felt  this,  and  said,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "  The 
madness  of  the  moment  is  past.  Pray,  do  not  so  regard 
me,  as  an  enemy  to  be  held  at  bay.  I  should  despise 
myself,  while  I  am  speaking  to  you,  but  that  I  know 
the  man  who  loves  the  noblest  woman  alive,  cannot 
altogether  merit  my  scorn." 

What  surprising  audacity,  I  thought ;  she  will  be 
darting  lightning  again.  And  sure  enough  it  came, 
swift  as  the  flame  of  heaven,  from  those  black  eyes, 
right  against  his  front. 

"  Sir,"  she  said,  "  you  are  a  stranger  to  me.  Reserve 
such  speech,  I  beseech  you,  for  ears  it  may  be  more 
familiar  to  than  mine,  and  when  next  we  meet  it  will 
be  as  people  who  have  never  seen  each  other's  faces. 
Good  morning ;"  and  turning,  she  swept  away  from 
him,  pushing  the  heavy  hair  from  her  temples  as  she 
went,  that  the  air  might  bathe  them  more  freely,  and 
give  her  back  somewhat  that  she  had  lost  in  this  inter- 
view. She  entered  her  own  room,  which  was  the 
second  from  mine  aft  on  the  same  side.  When  she 
turned  away,  Col.  Anderson,  without  bestowing  a 


24  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

glance  upon  me,  departed  to  the  deck,  where,  the  next 
moment,  I  heard  the  dear  Philip's  voice  greet  him, 
and  saw  the  boy  lifted  to  his  bosom,  in  an  embrace 
that  evidently  excited  more  surprise  than  pleasure  in 
his  little  heart. 

He  looked  wonderingly  into  his  friend's  face  for  a 
moment,  lifted  the  light  hat  from  his  head,  and  twining 
his  slender  fingers  among  the  curls  that  clustered  all 
over  it,  at  length  said :  "  You  ky,  wat  for,  Turnel 
Annerson  ?" 

A  groan  of  anguish  broke  from  the  heaving  bosom 
of  the  man. 

"  Put  me  down,  do,  please — I  want  to  go  to  my 
mamma,"  said  Phil. 

"  But  you  won't  tell  mamma  of  me,  Philip,"  said 
his  friend,  setting  him  down  at  the  foot  of  the  steps. 

"  No,  if  you'se  haven't  been  naughty  to  her,"  said 
the  little  fellow,  with  a  suspicion,  it  would  seem,  or  an 
instinct,  or  a  revelation — what  shall  we  call  it? — that 
what  so  distressed  the  strong  and  good  companion  of 
his  childish  games,  must  also,  in  some  way,  affect 
mamma. 


CHAPTER    III. 

I  had  not  felt  it  best  to  follow  Mrs.  Bromfield. 
Much  as  I  liked  her,  and  social,  and  even  tender  as  she 
was  at  times,  I  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  invade  the 
privacy  in  which  I  knew  she  was  making  a  desperate 
struggle  to  quench  the  roused  and  conflicting  emotions 
of  that  hour.  I  heard  the  water  flowing  from  the  tank 
into  her  basin,  and  I  knew  that  that  first  requisite  of 
restoration  would  be  put  to  thorough  use,  for  Mrs. 
Bromfield  worshiped  water.  If  she  had  been  born  a 
heathen,  she  would  not  have  deified  the  sun,  or  fire,  or 
light;  but  water.  Beside  the  scrupulous  purity  to 
which  it  was  essential,  it  was  scarcely  less  so  to  her,  in 
a  spiritual  sense.  Deprived  of  her  baths,  she  confessed 
to  human  infirmities,  which,  with  them,  she  seemed 
wholly  superior  to. 

When  Philip  entered  the  room,  his  little  foot-patter 
interrupted  her  for  a  moment,  but  I  could  feel  and  hear 
that  she  applied  herself  at  the  next  more  closely  than 
before,  to  laving  her  face,  thereby,  I  suppose,  conceal- 
ing it  from  the  child,  till  she  could  in  some  measure 
mask  it  for  his  searching  gaze.  For  Phil  had  an  eye 
for  mamma's  face,  that  was  not  easily  cheated ;  and  if 
real,  internal  sunshine  and  peace  were  not  there,  he 
would  not  see  the  smiles  or  assumed  expression  by 
which  she  would  have  made  him  believe  they  were. 
2 


26  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

Then  he  would  shy  up  to  her  knee,  in  a  bold,  yet  timid 
way,  that  was  altogether  his  own,  rest  his  little  elbow 
gravely  upon  it,  and  with  his  cheek  or  his  chin  upon 
his  palm,  would  regard  her  in  silence  for  a  space,  and 
if  she  did  not  speak,  would  at  length  ask,  "  Who's  been 
naughty  to  mamma  ?" 

I  sat  down  near  the  door  of  her  room.  Shall  I 
confess  ?  It  was  then,  with  a  desire  to  gather,  if  possi- 
ble, from  any  word  to  the  child,  a  clue  to  the  feelings 
with  which  she  had  come  out  of  the  startling  interview 
of  that  morning.  She  kept  her  face  some  minutes,  it 
seemed  to  me,  concealed  from  him,  by  a  long  bathing, 
but  at  length  she  stood  up  and  moved  a  step,  to  where 
her  towels  hung.  She  did  not  wait  for  him  to  speak, 
but  said  herself,  "  Where's  Harry,  darling  2" 

"  He's  on  foetassel,  wiz  Mr.  Darf." 

"  Will  my  little  King  Philip  go  and  call  him,  to  get 
ready  for  luncheon?"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  forced 
pleasantry. 

Bat  little  King  Philip,  though  a  very  obedient  child, 
had  other  views,  which  must  first  be  carried  out.  He 
knew  that  mamma  had  had  some  disturbing  experience, 
and  it  behooved  him  to  know  whence  it  came  and  what 
it  was.  For  King  Philip  had  inaugurated  himself 
mamma's  champion,  and  often  and  often  recounted  the 
sublime  wonders  of  his  future  years — the  fortunes,  the 
splendors,  the  triumphs — in  not  one  of  which  was 
mamma  ever  forgotten.  So,  instead  of  departing 
immediately,  he  went  and  pulled  softly  at  her  gown, 
to  get  a  look  from  her,  which  she  had  carefully  avoided 
giving  him  yet,  and  when  he  saw  that  her  eyes  were 
unmistakably  black,  he  asked,  with  a  great  spirit  rush- 
ing up  through  his  little  frame,  "  Mamma,  has  Turnel 
Annerson  been  naughty  to  you  2" 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  27 

"God  bless  the  boy!"  thought  I.  "He  has  his 
mother's  own  insight,  which  the  child-experience  has 
not  clouded."  I  waited  for  the  answer. 

Mrs.  Bromfield  was  like  truth  itself.  I  fancied  she 
could  scarcely  speak  to  deceive,  but  what  would  she 
say  to  this  blank  question  ? 

"Philip  mustn't  ask  questions  about  big  people; 
Philip  can't  understand  it  all,"  she  replied,  folding 
her  arms  around  the  fragile  but  stately  little  form,  and 
burying  the  spirited,  earnest  face  in  her  bosom. 

"  'Body's  "  (meaning  somebody,)  "  been  naughty  to 
you,"  he  insisted. 

"  Mamma  has  been  naughty  herself,"  she  said,  in 
what  I  felt  to  be  a  self-accusing  tone ;  and  thereat  I 
clapped  the  hands  of  my  spirit,  and  shouted,  mentally  : 
"  Bravo  !  we  are  getting  a  little  nearer  the  world's  level, 
when  we  can  say  that." 

If  you  wonder  how  I  could  honorably  establish  my- 
self in  this  kind  of  friendly  espionage  upon  a  proud, 
self-inclusive  woman,  I  answer,  that  I  desired  most 
earnestly — having  involuntarily  become  possessed  of 
this  secret,  which  would  have  startled  and  scattered 
any  other  woman's  faculties  for  days,  if  not  months — 
to  know  what  hold  it  had  taken  on  her.  I  was  pre- 
determined, too,  whatever  I  might  learn,  not  to  disclose 
a  syllable — not  even  to  breathe  to  any  mortal  concern- 
ing it ;  and,  indeed,  had  I  not  so  determined,  she 
would  have  compelled  me  to  silence  by  her  own  mag- 
nificent reticence. 

When  Philip,  the  king,  left  her,  to  go  to  the  "  foe- 
tassel  "  for  Harry,  she  smoothed  the  folds  of  her  hair, 
and  stepped  forth  into  the  cabin,  looking  certainly 
paler  than  was  her  wont,  and  showing  something  of 
languor  in  the  lines  of  her  mouth  and  in  the  relaxed 


28  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

eyelids ;  but  otherwise  she  was  Mrs.  Bromfield,  unof- 
fended  by  Col.  Anderson's  declared  passion.  She  sat 
down  beside  me,  and  calmly  resumed  a  conversation 
we  had  begun  the  evening  before,  on  the  Girondists — 
sustaining  herself  in  it  with  a  nerve  and  self-suppression 
that  impelled  me  almost  to  worship  her.  I  did  not 
wonder  at  the  Colonel's  madness — so  magnificent,  so 
proud,,  so  womanly,  so  sensitive,  she  sat  there.  I  could 
see,  through  the  thin  white  drapery  that  covered  her 
shoulders,  flashes  of  color  come  and  go  when  some 
footstep  approached  the  cabin-door,  and  I  thought, 
How  is  this  stranger  dreaded  ! 

At  length  luncheon  was  laid.  At  table  Col.  Ander- 
son was  Mrs.  Bromfield's  vis-a-vis,  with  Harry  next 
him,  and  Philip  next  her.  This  arrangement  had  been 
made,  when  we  were  all  first  able  to  take  our  places, 
at  Col.  Anderson's  request,  and  it  seemed  to  please 
him  very  much,  for  reasons  which  you  understand,  by 
this  time,  as  well  as  I  do.  The  Colonel  did  not  present 
himself  at  luncheon,  and  when  inquiry  was  made, 
Ching,  the  waiter,  said,  "  Colonel !  he  be  gone  to  main- 
top, ma' am,"  addressing  Mrs.  Bromfield,  though  she  had 
not  spoken,  as  if  he  thought  she  were  the  person  most 
directly  interested  in  knowing  his  whereabouts.  "  I 
am  much  mistaken,"  said  I  to  myself,  watching  her  at 
the  moment,  "  if  that  flushed  cheek  does  not  belie  the 
name  '  Stranger,"  by  which  you  have  ordered  yourself 
to  call  this  man." 

Col.  Anderson  was  usually  gay  at  meals ;  and  Mrs. 
Bromfield,  often  tacitly  accepting  his  challenge,  shone 
through  all  her  dignity,  with  infinite  wit,  spirit,  and 
courage,  in  the  encounters  thus  provoked  between  them. 
It  was  the  delight  of  the  little  company,  when  they 
two  set  upon  each  other  in  these  charming  encounters 
of  the  toninie. 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  29 

But  to-day  we  were  dull.  Poor  Mr.  Garth  looked 
on  from  a  distance,  and  made  some  futile  attempts  to 
engage  us  in  conversation,  but  the  calm  without  was 
stagnation  within,  and  every  endeavor  only  made 
the  failure  more  apparent.  Little  King  Philip 
munched  his  crackers  and  figs,  and  sipped  his  water, 
while  he  was  unmistakably  engaged  in  a  profound 
mental  study  of  the  whole  case,  which  he  seemed  in  a 
fair  way  to  make  out,  too,  between  mamma's  solemnly 
resolute  aspect  and  the  Colonel's  empty  chair,  and  the 
remembered  tears  and  groan  of  that  great  strong  man ; 
while  Harry,  who  was  less  sensitive  and  transparent 
than  Philip,  though  not  less  earnest,  took  his  part  very 
quietly,  and  only  asked  Ching,  in  an  under-tone,  with 
reference  to  the  main-top,  if  there  was  land  ahead. 
This  made  everybody  laugh,  except  Phil,  who  first 
looked  at  his  brother  with  a  glance  of  mild  rebuke,  and 
afterwards  at  mamma,  and  her  faint,  proud  smile, 
with  grave,  large-eyed  wonder. 

"  It  is  really  too  bad,"  I  thought,  when  luncheon 
was  over,  and  I  sauntered  upon  deck,  u  too  bad  to  be 
defrauded  of  all  the  sweet  woman-talk  which  this  occur- 
rence ought  to  furnish.  I've  a  great  mind  not  to  bear 
it.  And  then,  that  both  parties  should  so  grandly 
ignore  my  presence  when  the  storm  has  passed !" 

But  as  I  was  approaching  the  state  of  indignation 
which  my  self-respect  claimed  as  its  due,  from  these 
momentous  facts,  I  found  little  Mrs.  Farley  at  my  side, 
with  her  small,  thin  voice,  and  feeble  face.  I  saw  at  a 
glance  that  she  had  something  to  say  now,  and  instantly 
prepared  myself  to  be  questioned,  for  Mrs.  Farley  be- 
lieved that  I  knew  everything. 

"  I've  been  all  the  forenoon  in  my  berth,  Miss  War- 
ren," she  said. 


30  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

Her  room  was  between  Mrs.  Bromfield's  and  mine, 
but  it  was  our  good  fortune  to  have  her  a  little  deaf; 
for,  though  we  never  gossiped — gossip  with  Mrs.  Brom- 
field  ! — and  were  really  very  unlike,  and  had  never  yet 
been  confidential,  I  think  we  did  sometimes  both  feel 
that  Providence  had  befriended  us  in  this  particular. 
Mrs.  Farley  never  heard  our  conversation  unless  it  was 
intended  for  her,  and,  therefore,  it  was  never  necessary 
to  explain  any  of  the  many  things  which  otherwise  she 
must  have  had  fully  opened  to  her. 

But  her  dull  ears  had  keen  auxiliaries  in  her  little 
gray  eyes,  which  read,  or  tried  to  read,  everything 
that  passed  before  them  ;  and  so,  after  having 
announced  to  me  what  her  morning  had  been,  she 
asked : 

"  What  ailed  Mrs.  Bromfield  and  the  Colonel  ?"— - 
putting  their  names  together  in  a  manner  that  made 
me  involuntarily  look  around  to  see  who  might  have 
heard  her.  I  wouldn't  have  met  that  countenance 
then  and  there  for  all  Mrs.  Farley's  wardrobe,  of  which 
she  was  always  boasting,  and  mourning  to  have  the 
bowels  of  the  great  ship  restore  safely  to  her. 

"  I  do  not  know  Mrs.  Bromfield's  affairs,"  I  said ; 
"  and  I  advise  you  not  to  join  her  name  with  any  gen- 
tleman's, and  let  her  hear  you,  unless  you  want  the 
lightning  of  her  eyes  to  strike  you.  She  is  not  a  woman 
to  be  much  spoken  of  in  that  way." 

"  Well,  something  is  wrong  between  them,  I  know," 
said  Mrs.  Farley,  "  for  lie's  never  been  absent  from  the 
table  before,  and  I  saw  it  in  her  face  when  Ching  told 
her  he'd  gone  into  the  main-top  ;"  and  the  little  body 
laughed  a  poor  little  thin  laugh,  as  if  some  funny  idea 
had  just  chipped  the  shell  of  her  little  mind,  and  was 
making  a  little  stir  there. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  31 

"  That  Mr,  Gartli  and  Col.  Anderson,"  she  added, 
after  the  lip-mirth  had  subsided,  "  look  and  act  as  if 
they  thought  that  woman  was  an  angel,  or  something 
better,  while  she  never  notices  them.  I  should  think 
they'd  get  tired  of  watching  her  fine  looks  and  her 
grand  airs,  and  listening  for  her  words,  that  she's  as 
sparing  of  as  if  she  was  a  queen  or  a  president's  wife. 
I've  seen  many  a  handsomer  woman  than  she  ever  was, 
or  will  be,  not  half  so  much  admired." 

"  Very  likely,"  I  replied  ;  "  because  mere  beauty 
of  person  is  a  chance  gift,  which,  in  some  sort3  the 
mean  as  well  as  the  noble  may  possess ;  but  she  has 
much  more  than  that.  I  do  not  wonder  that  men  ad- 
mire and  adore  her;  if  I  were  one,  I  should  do  it 
myself  the  very  first  thing," 

I  knew  that  this  was  the  quickest  way  to  rid  myself 
of  my  interlocutor,  which  I  wished  to  do,  for  the  affair 
of  my  friends  had  taken  such  powerful  hold  on  my  feel- 
ings, that  I  wished  to  be  alone,  to  think  it  over — to 
revel  in  the  interest  it  had  excited  in  my  torpid  mind, 
and  to  unfold  my  woman's  nature  in  the  perfumed  air 
it  had  cast  over  me.  To  be  so  beloved  by  a  man  alto- 
gether worthy,  as  I  thought,  of  any  woman's  love — 
to  be  shut  up  with  him  in  the  small  compass  of  a  ship 
— to  sit  daily  over  against  him  at  table — to  receive 
from  his  hand,  with  a  stately  "  thank  you,"  the  numer- 
ous civilities  which  this  position  made  necessary — to 
feel  that  from  that  throbbing  heart  there  was  welling 
the  divinest  passion  and  power  of  manhood,  and  pour- 
ing themselves  upon  the  ground  at  her  feet — "All  this," 
I  thought,  "  will  prove  that  firmness,  and  try  that  hard- 
ness, and  break  them  down,  too,  in  the  end,  I  believe. 
If  only,  now,  the  man  will  hold  to  his  first  audacity, 
and  maintain  the  right  he  has  so  boldly  asserted,  all  will 


62  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

yet  be  well  with  them,  I  am  persuaded."  And  I  heart- 
ily wished  it ;  though  it  would  have  been  very  possible, 
I  think,  for  the  Colonel  to  have  interested  me  in  his 
happiness  more  than  would  have  been  consistent  with 
such  a  wish  in  behalf  of  another,  had  I  been  gifted  to 
command  him  as  she  was.  But  I  was  never  the  most 
brilliant  anywhere,  even  among  less  shining  creatures 
than  this  one,  and  such  alone  could  take  and  keep  the 
loyalty  of  a  soul  like  his. 

I  was  glad  that  he  had  found  her.  I  exulted  in  the 
thought  that  he  had  to  bow  down  to  her.  I  rejoiced 
that  his  great  passion  had  so  humbled  him ;  for  I  had 
no  doubt  that  he  had  hitherto  gone  through  the  world 
unscathed  in  heart,  taking  of  its  trials  and  struggles 
only  so  much  as  he  could  not  shake  off — and  that,  I 
concluded,  must  be  very  little — and  of  its  enjoyments 
reaping  harvests  when  and  where  he  would.  I  was 
glad  that  it  had  come  to  this  with  him  :  that  there  was 
but  one  woman  in  the  universe,  as  he  had  said,  and 
that  he  had  surrendered  body  and  soul  to  her  keeping. 
But  I  wished  the  surrender  to  be  accepted.  I  did  not 
like  to  think  of  those  two  faces  meeting  each  other  with 
alien  looks.  I  did  not  wish  to  see  those  two  spirits 
with  mechanical  courtesies,  bending  like  the  automata 
that  counterfeit  life — and  scarely  caricature  it — upon 
the  boards  of  the  showmen. 


CHAPTER    IY. 

I  remained  long  on  deck,  sometimes  walking,  some- 
times sitting,  and  sometimes  leaning  over  the  rail,  and 
wondering,  as  I  looked  into  the  great  world  of  waters, 
if  there  were,  indeed,  nothing  in  all  the  immense, 
varied  life  of  that  world,  to  answer  to  the  sentiment 
which  bows  down  and  lifts  up,  rends  and  heals,  withers 
and  ennobles  the  human  soul.  I  remained  long,  but 
saw  nothing  of  my  friends.  Mrs.  JBromh'eld  was  in 
her  state-room,  hearing  Harry  his  afternoon  lessons 
and  teaching  King  Philip  the  true  interpretation  of 
various  pictures,  in  a  gorgeous  edition  of  the  venerable 
Mrs.  Easy's  works,  which  the  Colonel  had  produced 
for  him  from  his  own  room,  after  the  discomforts  of  the 
first  days  were  over. 

With  a  wonderful  reverence  for  his  mother,  and  for 
everything  she  said,  the  child  could  not  sometimes 
refrain  from  quoting  the  "  Turn  el's"  diiferent  opinion. 
He  had  already  a  spark  of  man-erishness  in  his  little, 
clear,  budding  soul,  and  could  not  readily  accept  a 
woman's  authority  against  a  man's,  even  though  she 
was  his  perfect  and  adorable  mother. 

"  But,  mamma  dear,"  I  heard  him  say,  as  I  was 
walking  slowly  up  the  cabin,  "  the  Turnel  do  say  'at 
ole  woman  in  'e  shoe  have  all  dirls  for  her  bathes,  ^an' 
'at's  why  she  whip  'em  all  when  'ey  go  to  bed.  Do 
mammas  have  to  whip  dirl-babies,  mamma?" 
2* 


$4:  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

I  did  not  hear  the  reply,  but  I  concluded — and  it 
was  like  a  woman,  perhaps,  so  to  conclude — that  the 
question  had  hastened  the  adjournment  of  that  session  ; 
for  Phil  very  shortly  followed  me  up  the  cabin,  with 
his  book  in  his  hand,  inquiring  for  the  Colonel.  In  all 
probability  he  had  determined  upon  a  final  settlement 
of  the  "dirl"  question. 

On  deck  he  shouted  for  the  "  Turnel,"  and  then 
Harry  shouted  gleefully,  for  the  coolness  of  the  deli- 
cious tropical  evening  was  drawing  across  the  still  sea, 
and  told  him  that  PhiKp,  the  king,  wanted  him. 

Mrs.  Bromfield  left  her  room,  and  I  could  see  that 
this  call,  which  she  dared  not  interdict,  made  her 
nervously  uneasy.  Doubtless  she  saw  through  it  diffi- 
culties in  the  programme  of  the  next  few  weeks,  which 
she  had  not  at  first  anticipated.  The  regal  frost — 
"  when  next  we  meet,  it  will  be  as  people  who  have 
never  seen  each  other's  faces"  -with  which  she 
had  parted  from  this  man,  would  melt  away  in  the 
sunlight  of  those  children's  hearts.  He  had  them. 
He  was  indispensable  to  their  daily  eating,  drinking, 
talking,  and  playing.  She  could  not  separate  them 
from  him  without  publishing  to  the  common  sailors, 
and  even  to  almond-eyed  Ching,  that  something  had 
happened. 

The  Colonel  soon  made  his  appearance  from  some- 
where, in  answer  to  his  titular  dignity,  whether  from  the 
main-top  or  not  I  cannot  testify;  but  very  shortly  Phil's 
hammock  was  suspended,  and  he  swinging  in  it,  with 
an  expression  of  such  entire  rest  and  contentment  as 
quite  moved  me  to  behold,  knowing,  as  I  did,  what  a 
desperately  agonized  heart  was  beating  beside  him. 
For  when  I  went  on  deck  again  (I  was  restless  myself, 
and  could  not  be  still,)  and  when  I  looked  into  Colonel 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  35 

Anderson's  face,  and  saw  there  the  marble  rigidity  into 
which  he  had  calmed  or  compelled  his  features,  I  began, 
first,  to  call  in  question  Mrs.  Bromfield's  right  so  to 
condemn  and  punish  a  man  for  any  mere  audacity. 
"  True,"  I  said,  "  it  was  a  bold  offense,  but  one  must 
see  that  it  was  an  act  of  irresistible  worship ;  it  was 
involuntary  in  him,  and  that  should  extenuate,  if  not 
excuse  it.  She  ought  not  to  be  so  merciless." 

Mr.  Garth  came  along  with  Harry,  and  I  thought 
he  cast  a  peculiarly  searching  glance  at,  or  rather  into, 
Colonel  Anderson's  face.  They  walked  back  and 
forth  several  times — the  boy  and  he — talking,  and  once 
again  I  saw  the  same  questioning,  almost  angry  look, 
which,  however,  fell  unnoticed  on  the  other.  I  stepped 
to  the  companion-way,  and  called  Harry  to  me. 

"  Go  down  and  bring  your  mother  up,  to  take  her 
walk  before  dinner,  Harry,"  said  I,  wishing  at  the 
same  time  that  he  would  stop  and  ask  me  about  her, 
that  so  I  might  learn  whether  he  or  Mr.  Garth  had 
any  notion  of  what  had  taken  place. 

"  Is  mamma  ill  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  No,  Harry ;  but  I  think  she  would  be  glad  to  have 
you  invite  her  on  deck." 

He  lingered  yet,  and  at  length  I  said  :  "  What  is  it, 
Harry?" 

"I  want  to  know  if  Colonel  Anderson  said  any- 
thing to  mamma,  this  morning,  that  he  oughtn't  to, 
because " 

"  Well,  because  what,  Harry  ?" 

"  Because  Mr.  Garth  and  I,  when  we  were  on  the 
forecastle,  heard  one  of  the  sailors  telling  another,  that, 
when  he  was  at  the  wheel  this  morning,  the  dark-eyed 
lady — and  Mr.  Garth  says  that  means  mamma — told 
the  Colonel  something  that  was  mighty  unpleasant  for 


36  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

him  to  hear,  and  that's  the  reason,  the  man  says,  that 
he's  been  in  the  main-top  all  the  afternoon." 

"  So — so,"  thought  I,  "  there  was  a  man  at  the 
wheel,  of  course,  with  nothing  in  the  world  to  do,  in 
this  still  sea,  but  have  eyes  and  ears  open  to  every- 
thing." 

I  had  been  hoping  that  the  strange  interview 
was  unknown  to  any  but  myself,  and  was  not  pleased 
to  hear  of  this  publication  of  it ;  but  I  set  the  child's 
mind  at  rest,  charging  him  to  say  nothing  of  it  to  his 
mother,  or  any  one,  which  he  readily  promised.  And 
as  the  boys  were  remarkable,  even  at  that  early  age, 
for  clear  perceptions,  a  high  sense  of  honor,  and 
thorough  conscientiousness,  I  knew  I  could  fully  trust 
him. 

His  mother  did  not  accept  his  invitation,  however, 
and  I  already  began  to  foresee  many  discomforts  and 
miseries,  for  myself  and  those  I  was  most  interested  in, 
from  the  disturbed  relation  of  these  our  "  iirst 
persons." 

Colonel  Anderson  shortly  lifted  Phil  from  his  ham- 
mock, and  thereafter  disappeared  from  the  deck. 

"  Has  he  gone  below  ?"  I  asked,  mentally  ;  but 
though  I  wished  much  to  witness  the  iirst  meeting, 
feeling  assured  of  a  most  dainty,  frosty,  and  at  the  same 
time,  unmanifest  piece  of  ceremony,  to  be  then  and 
there  enjoyed,  I  did  not  go  down,  being  resolved  to 
wait  the  call  of  Ching's  gong — a  pleasanter  instrument 
to  me  the  farther  I  was  removed  from  it. 

At  length  it  came,  and  after  the  last  horrible  vibra- 
tion had  died  away,  I  descended  with  Mr.  Garth,  who 
had  been  unburthening  his  mind  to  me  of  this  affair, 
and  little  Phil,  who  had  protested  against  the  black 
eyes  imputed  to  his  mother.  ISTo  one  was  yet  at  table 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  37 

— no  one  in  the  cabin  but  Ching,  looking  careful  and 
important ;  the  Captain,  and  Mrs.  Farley.  Mr.  Pedea 
soon  entered,  then  came  Mr.  Wilkes,  and  next,  my 
queen  of  tragedy,  with  bright  glancing  eyes,  and  seri- 
ous, calmly  determined  face. 

"  She  will  betray  herself,"  I  said,  inwardly  vexed 
at  that  great  look,  and  feeling  more  keenly  than  before 
how  much  was  at  stake. 

"  What !  the  Colonel  absent  yet  ?"  asked  Captain 
Landon.  "  Is  he  gone  ashore,  Ching  ?" 

"  No,  serr,  me  no  tink." 

"Ah  !  here  he  is."  And  how  intently  I  watched. 
"  Now,"  thought  I,  "  I  shall  judge  of  her  good  sense, 
more  than  of  her  heart,  by  the  next  three  minutes." 

lie  walked  up  the  cabin,  and,  strong  man  as  he  was, 
I  saw  his  face  whiten  in  the  progress  ;  but  she  looked 
unconstrained,  and  when  he  came  opposite  and  took 
his  seat,  she  raised  her  eyes — those  eyes  which  com- 
manded his — and  said,  very  naturally  : 

"  The  boys  had  a  hunt  for  you  this  evening,  Colonel 
Anderson.  I  hope  they  did  not  disturb  or  interrupt 
yon." 

There,  again,  I  clapped  the  hands  of  my  spirit,  and 
mentally  reiterated,  "  Bravo !  She  sees  the  impossi- 
bility of  adhering  outwardly  to  her  first  purpose. 
She  will  treat  him  in  public  as  an  acquaintance,  and 
will  probably  reserve  those  little  pungencies  of  polite 
intercourse,  with  which  she  will  avenge  this  necessity, 
for  the  more  private  passages  which  cannot  always 
be  avoided  while  we  are  confined  to  the  space  of  a 
ship." 

But  I  soon  saw  that  she  had  finer  weapons  than  I 
knew  of — words  that  served  the  exigency  of  her  spirit 
rarely,  as  flexible  and  tortuous  as  those  of  the  most 


38  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

skillful  diplomat;  and  subtile  tones  which  would 
cement  these  needles  of  the  tongue  into  a  glittering 
barrier  between  them.  I  was  infinitely  vexed  by  this 
keen  bearing  of  all  that  she  said  to  him  during  our 
meal,  and  her  conversation  was  little  shorn  of  its  usual 
freedom  and  charm.  Yet  I  felt,  rather  than  saw,  how 
it  agonized  him  ;  the  ice- wall,  I  knew,  went  up  and 
up,  the  sharp  crystals  pricking  and  chafing  as  they 
took  their  place  in  the  glittering  fabric.  But  I  was 
proud  and  delighted,  in  the  inmost  depths  of  my  heart, 
to  see,  that,  while  there  was  no  mock  gayety  in  his 
defense,  there  was  also  no  unmanly  acknowledgment,  in 
his  voice  or  eye,  that  he  felt  the  wounds. 

"  They  are  well  matched  for  the  battle,"  said  I, 
mentally ;  but  while  it  was  going  on,  I  thought,  with 
a  feeling  of  relief,  "  Every  meal  will  not  be  such  an 
ordeal.  When  she  has  fenced  him  off  and  shown  him 
the  limits  of  his  traversable  territory,  she  will  sit  qui- 
etly within  her  own,  and  throw  him  a  nectarine  or  a 
peach  now  and  then  for  those  arrows  she  is  now 
piercing  him  with." 

Mrs.  Bromtield  had  certain  old-fashioned  ways,  in 
which  she  was  very  fixed.  Her  children  were  never 
allowed  to  engross  the  conversation  at  table,  as  one  so 
often  sees  the  young  people  in  our  country  do.  Occa- 
sionally a  word  or  a  question,  quietly  put,  but  never 
reiterated,  and  above  all,  never  a  loud  or  noisy  tone, 
exacting  attention.  At  this  dinner,  however,  the  roj^al 
Philip  ventured,  in  a  moment's  pause  of  his  elders,  to 
remark  to  the  "  Turnel,"  looking  gravely  at  him  across 
the  table,  that  "  Mamma  did  not  think  all  'at  ole  wo- 
man's chil'ens  in  'e  shoe  were  dirl-babies." 

There  was  a  laugh  all  round  at  this,  and  Colonel 
Anderson  said  :  "  Doesn't  she,  Pliil  ?  I  am  sorry  to 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  39 

differ  with  such  high  authority  as  mamma  is  with 
you,  my  boy  ;  but  we'll  argue  the  case  after  dinner — 
shall  we?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Phil,  after  a  good  long  draught 
from  his  little  goblet,  "  on  deck,  when  mamma  is 
takin'  'er  walk  wis  Harry  and  me.  You'll  come, 
too,  Turnel,  won't  you  ?" 

"  He  had  got  through  the  whole  speech,  unusually 
long  for  him  at  table,  before  Mrs.  Bromfield  could 
arrest  his  tongue.  Her  face  flushed,  and  she  turned 
her  eyes  rebukingly  on  the  child,  and  said,  thereby  cut- 
ting the  matter  off  from  another  word  :  "  Philip  must 
not  talk  at  dinner.  Mamma  is  not  pleased  with  it." 
And  addressing  herself  to  the  Captain  in  the  next 
breath,  she  inquired  if  there  were  any  signs  of  the  calm 
breaking  up  soon. 

"  I  think  there  are,  ma'am,"  he  replied.  "  There's 
a  little  scud  on  our  larboard  quarter  that  I  hope  means 
something  for  us  beside  lying  here.  The  Tempest  will 
certainly  lose  her  reputation  if  we  are  to  fare  so  much 
longer." 

"  Have  we  changed  our  position  at  all  in  the  last 
five  days  ?" 

"  Oh !  yes ;  but  unfortunately,  in  the  wrong  direc- 
tion, ma'am  ;  we  have  gone  westward,  when  we  would 
better  have  gone  eastward.  But  let  us  have  a  breeze 
once  more,  and  we'll  soon  set  that  all  right,"  he  said, 
rising  and  going  forward. 

We  shortly  followed  him,  leaving  Mr.  Pedes  in 
warm  and  dogmatic  argument  with  Mr.  Wilkes  on 
some  question  touching  the  univalves  and  bivalves  of 
the  Pacific  islands,  in  which  the  latter  gentleman,  to 
our  astonishment,  stood  sturdily  to  his  first  assertion 
in  so  self-reliant  and  clear  a  tone,  that  Mrs.  Bromfield 


40  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

declared,  unhesitatingly,  lie  must  be  in  tlie  right,  even 
though  the  man  of  science  was  against  him. 

Colonel  Anderson  still  sat,  sipping  with  moody,  ab- 
stracted look,  a  glass  of  wine,  while  Mr.  Garth,  unin- 
terested in  either  the  men  or  the  argument,  retired  to 
the  deck,  Harry  and  Phil  following  him,  with  a  prom- 
ise from  mamma  and  me  to  come  very  soon.  The 
children,  so  excellent,  clear,  sunny,  and  trustful — never 
doubting  their  cordial  welcome  to  any  heart  or  hand 
of  those  they  loved— were  an  inexpressible  treasure  to 
us  all.  When  older  souls  were  clouded,  theirs  were 
clear;  when  other  tongues  were  silent,  theirs  ran  in 
merriment  or  music  ;  when  Time  was  growing  heavy 
and  slow,  they  plumed  his  wings,  and  quickened  them 
by  their  bright,  affectionate  fancies  of  the  future. 
Happy  children !  blessed  in  being  born  of  a  mother 
whose  mental  and  physical  life  had  so  richly  endowed 
them ;  who  rejoiced  not  in  feebleness  and  fragility,  but 
in  strength  and  health,  that  were  above  price  to 
them. 

We  soon  joined  them  on  deck  for  the  accustomed 
evening  walk  and  lounge  before  their  bed-time  came. 
Up  and  down,  up  and  down,  without  ever  a  word  on  the 
one  subject  that  I  knew  she  was  woman  enough  to  be 
engrossed  in,  though  her  pride  buried  it  from  every 
eye  but  her  own — and  mine,  which  saw  as  deep  as  hers 
that  evening.  Colonel  .Anderson  was  wont  to  join  us 
at  times  in  this  stroll,  crossing  and  recrossing  ;  stop- 
ping for  a  few  words,  or  walking  two  or  three  turns 
with  us,  and  then  falling  off  with  some  one  else.  But 
to-night  he  did  not  appear. 

"Surely,"  I  said,  "he  will  not  give  up  so.  He 
ought  to  have  the  pride  and  self-command  of  a  man — 
and  more,  too,  to  match  hers."  I  had  almost  a  mind 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  41 

to  go  below  and  urge  him  up  into  her  presence,  but  I  ques- 
tioned if  I  had  the  nerve  for  so  brave  a  word  as  would  be 
needful  for  that,  and  so  staid,  until  she  called  Harry 
from  Mr.  Garth's  side,  where  he  stood,  watching  the 
moon  and  listening  to  a  talk  between  him  and  Mr. 
Pedes,  to  go  down  to  bed.  King  Philip  was  already 
drowsy,  and  she  took  him  up  ;  but  just  as  she  was  set- 
ting her  foot  upon  the  first  step  of  the  companion- 
way,  Col.  Anderson's  form  rose  up  out  of  the  dimness 
below,  and  the  child  flung  himself  forward  into  his 
extended  arms. 

Mrs.  Bromfleld  rarely  reproved,  and  never  scolded 
her  children  ;  but  I  think,  judging  from  the  quick,  back- 
ward turn  of  the  head — for  it  was  too  dark  to  see  her 
face — that  that  act  put  her  in  a  mood  to  have  done  one 
or  other  right  heartily  at  that  moment.  I  was  just  be- 
hind them,  for  I  thought  of  offering  to  undress  one  of 
the  boys,  as  I  often  did  ;  and  I  enjoyed  seeing  Phil 
borne  up  the  saloon,  his  arms  folded  around  Col.  An- 
derson's neck,  and  his  delicate  cheek  resting  upon  the 
sturdy  shoulder — his  mamma  following,  with  fiery  look 
and  charing  step. 

At  the  door  of  her  room  the  child  and  man  parted 
with  a  clinging  kiss — there  was  great  love  between 
them — and  as  the  Colonel  placed  him  on  the  carpet,  he 
said  :  "  I  so  dlad,  Turnel,  I  ain't  a  dirl,  so  to  be  whipped 
'fore  I  go  to  bed." 

In  spite  of  his  pain,  the  man  smiled,  and  said  : 
"  We  must  talk  about  that  in  the  morning,  Phil. 
Good  night."  And  with  a  grave,  courteous  bow  to  the 
figure  that  stood  beside  the  child,  he  retired  to  his  own 
room. 

No  chance  for  a  meeting  on  deck,  then,  that  night. 
"Will  the  man  part  with  all  his  courage?"  I  asked 


42  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

myself  again.  "  Even  for  her,  grand  and  complete  as 
she  is,  I  wouldn't  do  it,  if  I  were  he."  And  yet  I,  a 
woman,  sat  and  watched  her  motions,  and  drank  in  her 
tones,  with  a  sort  of  worship — at  least,  if  you  object  to 
that — a  fullness  of  satisfaction  which  mo  other  being  had 
ever  given  me. 

The  prayers  were  over,  and  the  last  kisses  exchanged, 
and  the  last  broken,  sleepy  words  had  been  uttered  by 
Phil's  lips,  just  as  the  curtains  of  his  eyes  fell  irresisti- 
bly down — for  Phil  was  a  child  of  ideas,  and  they  would 
press  out  of  him,  even  when  sleep  was  crowding  hard 
to  drive  them  back — and  when  all  this  was  done,  Mrs. 
Bromfield,  stately  and  alone,  came  forth  from  her  room, 
and  said : 

"  Will  you  walk  a  little,  my  friend.  I  hope  so 
much  for  a  breeze  to-night.  I  feel  suffocated" — throw- 
ing the  hair  back  in  careless  disorder  from  her  temples. 
I  knew,  by  their  distended  veins  and  by  her  dimmed 
eyes,  that  they  were  throbbing  with  the  pent-up  fire, 
which,  I  thought,  if  you  are  such  a  woman  as  I 
have  accepted  you  for,  you  cannot  much  longer  stifle 
there  within.  Tears  or  words  must  give  it  way  soon. 


CHAPTER   Y. 

Mrs.  Bromfield  was  at  least  an  inch  taller  than 
myself,  and  I  was  reckoned  of  full  womanly  stature 
before  I  drooped  from  my  last  illness :  but  so  exquisite- 
ly was  she  proportioned  that  one  would  not  willingly 
have  lost  an  eighth  of  an  inch  from  her  hight.  Her 
figure  had  that  unmistakable  elegance  and  bearing  on 
which  a  common  eye  would  dwell  with  delight.  But 
it  was  in  her  motions  and  tones,  in  the  language  of  her 
radiant,  clear,  calm  eye,  and  the  living  light  of  her 
face,  that  the  spiritual  beauty  which  commanded  peo- 
ple expressed  itself. 

I  acknowledged  it  whenever  she  approached  me, 
and  I  could  feel  the  thrill  with  which  others  drank  it 
in,  in  their  intercourse  with  her  ;  I  could  see  it  in  their 
countenances,  and  in  the  glad  alacrity  with  which  the 
servants  and  seamen,  when  they  were  near,  sought  to 
please  or  serve  her.  She  had  the  rare  and  happy  gift 
of  making  her  service  a  joy  and  privilege  to  those 
about  her.  Yet  how  blind  she  was  to  their  pleasure  in 
it!  How  seldom  she  indulged  herself  or  others  in 
receiving  at  their  hands  what  they  would  so  gladly 
have  rendered.  How  quiet  and  self-helpful  she  was. 
As  she  rested  her  hand  upon  my  shoulder  in  our  walk, 
I  felt  how  hopeless  it  was  for  Col.  Anderson,  or  any 
other  man,  to  struggle  against  a  genuine  love  for  this 


44  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

woman.  To  endure  it  might  be  possible — to  overcome 
it,  never. 

We  walked,  then  sat  and  walked  again,  long,  long ; 
but  neither  his  name  or  the  excitement  of  the  day  was 
alluded  to  by  either.  Mr.  Garth  joined  us,  and  after- 
ward Mr.  Pedes,  and  both  expressed  some  wonder  that 
the  Colonel  was  not  out ;  but  their  remarks  elicited 
from  her  only  quiet  and  dignified  replies,  such  as  she 
would  have  made  had  the  Captain  or  Mr.  Wilkes  been 
their  subject,  instead  of  this  mad,  crushed  lover — this 
newly  caged  lion,  the  key  of  whose  prison  had  been 
given  to  her. 

It  was  late  when  we  went  below,  and  already  the 
sky  was  overcast  in  the  south-west.  At  intervals 
there  came  to  us  airs  from  that  dim,  dreamy  region, 
such  as  had  not  fanned  our  heated  brows  for  many  a 
day — welcome  airs,  freighted  with  hope — whispering 
courage  to  our  hearts — imparting  pleasure  and  life  to 
our  languid  bodies,  and  by  their  mysterious  touch 
moving  the  secret  springs  within  to  old,  forgotten 
harmonies.  O  glorious  summer  wind !  pulse  of  the 
great  moving  heart  of  the  universe !  how  all  created 
things  languish  when  thou  withdrawest  thyself — how 
the  spirit  of  man,  and  the  brute  brotherhood,  every- 
where mourn  and  faint  in  thy  absence !  how  they 
rejoice  when  again  thou  lea  vest  the  secret  chambers  of 
the  heavens,  and  treadest  unseen  the  fields  of  ether, 
sending  bounties  and  blessing  over  the  earth  !  How 
gratefully  we  wanderers  on  the  deep  hailed  thy  care- 
less, fitful  promise,  when  thou  didst  momentarily  touch 
our  slackened  sails,  coyly  retreating,  and  again  return- 
ing with  firmer  pressure  on  the  canvas,  that  seemed  to 
woo  thy  stay !  Thrice  welcome  to  our  impatient  souls 
— thrice  freighted  with  blessing  to  us,  of  healthful 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  45 

pleasure  for  the  present,  of  hope  for  the  future,  and  of 
sweet,  suggestive  fancies,  of  the  vast  unknown  whither 
thou  wert  journeying. 

I  had  been  two  hours  or  more  asleep,  when  I  awoke 
with  the  lively  rush  of  waters  at  the  ship's  side — a 
sound  more  welcome  than  any  other  could  have  been 
to  us.  I  was  delighted,  and  could  not  again  compose 
myself  to  sleep  for  a  long  time.  I  heard  four  bells  of 
the  morning  watch;  then  six,  then  eight,  and  the  shout 
from  away  forward,  "  Eight  bells.  Starboard  watch, 
turn  out !" 

The  wind  had  increased  from  my  first  waking,  and 
I  was  seaman  enough  to  know,  by  the  orders  on  deck, 
that  it  was  "  hauling  fairer "  every  hour.  "  Square 
the  yards  "  were  the  words  from  time  to  time,  and  the 
Tempest  seemed  really  taking  kindly  to  her  old  voca- 
tion of  rocking  into  the  seas  again.  It  was  refreshing 
and  delightful  to  feel  the  living  motion  once  more 
beneath  us. 

I  lay,  gladly  hearing  our  wings  stretch  and  fill  with 
the  careering  wind,  till  presently  I  found  myself  dream- 
ing that  it  was  a  gale,  and  that  we  were  lashed  to  the 
masts  and  capstans  to  enable  us  to  hold  by  the  ship  in 
the  great  seas  that  rolled  over  her.  I  awoke.  It  was 
full  daylight,  though  not  sunshine,  as  it  had  been  the 
last  days,  and  the  Tempest  was  pitching  as  I  had  not 
felt  her  since  we  left  the  frozen  seas  of  Cape  Horn. 
Her  cordage  creaked,  and  the  wind  roared  through  her 
shrouds  and  sails  like  the  voice  of  doom.  We  were  on 
the  weather  side,  and  already  I  heard  little  fussy  Mrs. 
Farley  pitching  occasionally  against  the  partition  of 
our  rooms  ;  and  the  gleeful  voice  of  Phil  in  the  saloon, 
challenging  mamma  and  the  "  Turnel"  and  "Mis'r 
Darf "  to  go  up  with  him  on  deck  and  "see  the  wind." 


4:6  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

He  stumbled  along  to  Colonel  Anderson's  door,  and 
knocked,  but  there  was  no  answer ;  and  Phil  was  just 
about  to  raise  an  unkingly  cry,  when  the  cabin-door 
was  opened,  and  the  leonine  voice  and  form  rushed  in 
together,  as  on  the  wings  of  the  air. 

"  Halloa,  Philip,  my  king  !" 

"  Oh  !  Turnel,  do,  p'ease,  take  me  on  deck  ;  I  want 
to  see  'e  wind  so  much !" 

"  Yes,  come  with  me ;"  and  away  they  went,  filled 
with  new  life,  both  of  them. 

And  I  thought :  "  We  shall  not  see  so  tame  a  Colo- 
nel to-day,  in  a  gale,  as  we  had  yesterday  in  the  calm. 
There  will  be  hands  wanted  to-day,  where  they  were 
needless  yesterday,  and  strong,  masculine  arms  for 
emergencies  on  deck  and  elsewhere.  We  shall  see  now 
how  it  will  be  all  through  another  sort  of  day  ;"  and  I 
rose  in  haste,  and  made  my  toilet,  to  be  ready. 

A  sudden  sea,  following  a  calm,  always  brings  to 
me,  in  the  first  hours,  a  little  dismay — not  fear, 
nor  dread,  but  my  mercury  falls  for  awhile,  like  that  of 
the  barometer,  when  the  silent  breath  of  the  advancing 
tempest  lightens  the  air. 

I  was  glad,  therefore,  at  breakfast,  to  hear  the  Cap- 
tain and  Colonel  Anderson  and  Mr.  Pedes  congratu- 
lating each  other  on  the  breeze,  and  prophesying  what 
we  should  make  that  day  ;  and,  with  the  sanguineness 
of  men  to  whom  hope  comes  swiftly,  foretelling  all  sorts 
of  good  luck  and  speed  for  the  remainder  of  our 
voyage. 

"  Are  you  not  still  farther  west  than  you  would 
like  to  be,  Captain  Landon,  asked  Mrs.  Bromfield. 

"  A  very  little,  ma'am,"  said  the  old  seaman, 
slightly  nettled  at  her  question.  I  think  he  would 
have  preferred  his  lady  passengers  should  not  know 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  47 

whether  they  were  in  the  Atlantic  or  Pacific  or  Indian 
Ocean.  "  We  are  a  very  little  farther  west  than  ] 
would  be  if  I  had  Aladdin's  square  of  carpet ;  but  a 
few  hours  of  this  wind  will  put  us  where  we  want 
to  be." 

Phil  asked  for  and  got  a  bit  of  broiled  chicken  this 
morning,  on  the  ground,  as  he  said,  of  the  wind,  and 
the  hard  work  he  should  have  to-day.  It  was  aston- 
ishing how  the  motion  raised  our  spirits,  as  the  day 
wore  on,  and  lifted  us  out  of  the  little  stagnant  world 
which  had  contained  us  yesterday.  Even  the  events 
that  had  so  absorbed  me  till  I  went  to  sleep,  became 
comparatively  insignificant  in  view  of  a  speedy  arrival 
and  the  change  and  action  that  would  be  consequent 
thereon.  Nevertheless  I  watched  my  two  friends,  as 
they  met  and  passed  here  and  there  through  the  day — 
through  that  day  and  the  next  the  wind  still  keeping 
up,  and  at  times  increasing  uncomfortably  for  an  hour 
or  two. 

On  the  third  morning  the  Captain  announced  that 
we  had  passed  a  group  of  coral  islands  in  the  night, 
which  he  was  glad  to  be  leaving  behind  him,  and  all 
seemed  to  promise  as  fair  as  our  most  ardent  wishes 
could  demand. 

Just  before  luncheon  that  day,  Col.  Anderson  came 
to  me,  on  deck,  and  said  :  "  Miss  Warren,  I  am  about 
to  ask  a  favor  of  you,  which  I  hope  you  have  the 
courage  and  candor  to  refuse  if  you  feel  the  slightest 
reluctance  to  granting  it;"  and  with  the  words,  he 
drew  from  his  breast-pocket  a  letter,  and  handed  it  to 
me.  It  was  unsealed,  and  addressed  to  Mrs.  Eleanore 
Bromfield.  I  was  struck  with  the  name,  for  it  was  the 
first  time  I  had  known  what  it  was,  and  how  should  he 
have  learned  it  ? 


4:8  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  Your  presence  in  the  cabin  on  Tuesday  morning," 
lie  said,  "  brings  me  to  you  as  .a  messenger  to  that  lady. 
Have  you  any  unwillingness  to  oblige  me  in  this 
matter  ?" 

"None,  Colonel  Anderson,"  I  answered,  after  a 
moment's  reflection ;  "  but  I  should  be  loth  to  encour- 
age you  with  a  hope  of  reply." 

"  I  have  left  the  letter  unsealed,"  he  said,  in  defer- 
ence to  her  feelings.  She  would  not  suffer  you  to  leave 
her  at  that  mad  meeting,  and  I  have  written  nothing 
here  which  she  might  not,  after  what  you  have  wit- 
nessed, leave  to  your  perusal,  if  she  choose.  For  God's 
sake,"  he  added,  already  pale  with  his  strong  emotion, 
"  go  to  her  with  it,  and  bring  me  some  word  or  expres- 
sion that  will  make  me  a  man  again  !" 

I  hurried  away,  and  following  the  sound  of  Phil's 
joyous  voice,  found  her,  with  both  the  boys,  in  her 
room.  The  note  was  in  my  pocket,  for  I  meant  to  be 
guarded  in  delivering  it,  and  so  waited  till  the  boys 
were  dismissed ;  Harry  walking  proudly  away,  en- 
trusted with  the  safe  delivery  of  King  Philip  on  deck, 
•to  which  end  he  summoned  Ching  at  the  cabin-door ; 
but  in  another  moment  I  saw  the  little  form  lifted  with 
passionate  fondness  to  another  bosom  than  yellow 
Ching's,  and  so  borne  off. 

"  Mrs.  Bromfield,"  I  said — I  did  not  dare  to  let  her 
begin,  in  her  leading  way,  on  indifferent  topics,  for 
then  I  could  never  have  broken  in  with  the  one  that 
had  brought  me  to  her — "  Mrs.  Bromfield,  I  have  been 
requested  to  bring  you  this  note  ;"  and  I  drew  it  from 
my  pocket  and  laid  it  on  her  knee. 

She  did  not  know  Colonel  Anderson's  writing,  and 

O* 

as  she  slowly  proceeded  to  draw  the  sheet  from  its  en- 
velope,  she    asked  if  we  were  getting  up  a  compli- 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  49 

mentary  card  to  the  Captain — "  or  what  is  it  ?"  she 
said,  quickly,  as  her  startled  eye  fell  on  the  name  at 
the  bottom. 

She  laid  it  down  a  moment,  and  took  breath  and 
counsel  of  herself.  Then  she  glanced  at  me,  and 
turned  her  eyes  straight  before  her.  I  did  not  speak, 
which  was,  perhaps,  better  than  if  I  had ;  for,  after  a 
long  pause,  she  took  up  the  note  and  began  reading  it. 
These  were  the  words  he  had  written  her : 

"  To  MRS.  BKOMFIELD  : 

"  If  my  offense  is  indeed  too  great  for  expiation  or 
forgiveness,  let  me  bear  the  consequences — your  indig- 
nant scorn  and  my  own  self-contempt 

"  But  you  are  too  just  to  condemn  me  unheard. 
Had  I  so  much  as  touched  your  garment  with  rude  or 
irreverent  hand,  it  were  right  that  you  should  dismiss 
me  with  ignominy  from  your  presence  and  acquaint- 
ance ;  but  until  you  hear  me,  you  cannot  know,  surely, 
that  I  am  thus  guilty,  and  you  so  injured. 

"  Therefore  I  pray  you  to  hearken  patiently  to  a  few 
words.  They  shall  be  very  few,  and  let  the  soul  to 
which  they  are  addressed  not  flame  in  consuming  scorn 
upon  him  who  utters  them, 

"  You  will  better  feel  the  earnestness  of  this  prayer 
when  you  understand,  that,  for  the  last  four  months,  I 
have  lived  but  for  one  object — absolutely  and  entirely 
for  one.  And  you  will  also  feel  how  absorbing  that 
must  have  become,  to  swallow  up  the  whole  of  a  life 
that  has  hitherto  compassed — I  may  say  it  without 
vanity — many  and  various  ones*  Four  months  ago  I 
went  on  board  the  Tempest,  to  see  the  quarters  which 
a  friend  of  mine  was  proposing  to  take  for  this  voyage. 
While  we  sat  in  the  room  to  which  he  had  shown  me, 
3 


50  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

your  boys  came  on  board,  and  walked  up  the  cabin,  in 
my  sight.  I  love  children — God  bless  them  ! — and 
never  was  a  pair  seen  that  could  so  captivate  a  man's 
heart.  I  looked  earnestly  for  their  mother,  for  it  is 
my  belief,  when  I  behold  such  children  as  Harry  and 
Philip,  that  their  mother  will  always  be  a  woman 
worth  looking  at.  And  when  you  came  slowly  after 
them,  glancing  neither  to  the  right  nor  left,  and  en- 
tered the  room  you  now  occupy,  I  only  asked,  '  Who 
is  she,  that  woman  and  mother,  who  passed  by  ?'  I 
was  told  your  name  and  condition,  and  that  you  had 
taken  passage  on  this  ship.  An  irrepressible  desire  to 
become  known  to  you  instantly  possessed  me  ;  and  as 
the  choice  of  my  destination  was  unfettered  by  any 
existing  arrangements,  my  decision  was  promptly  taken. 
That  night  I  engaged  the  room  my  friend  had  given 
up,  and  the  rest  you  know.  I  have  never  for  a  mo- 
ment repented  my  precipitate  voyage,  nor  do  I  now, 
though  God  knows  my  heart  could  not  hold  another 
agony  at  this  hour. 

"  I  was  mad  on  Tuesday  morning.  I  have  enjoyed 
your  reading  but  three  times  before ;  and  at  each  have 
been,  as  I  then  was,  an  uninvited  auditor.  The  senti- 
ment of  that  poem,  so  noble  and  so  wholly  adopted  as 
your  own,  by  the  voice  and  the  swelling  emotion  that 
came  forth  with  the  words,  made  me  forgetful  of  every- 
thing but  that  love  like  mine  might  also  ask  and  claim 
its  recognition.  I  kissed  your  forehead,  as  in  my  higher 
moments  I  bow  down  before  my  God — because  it  was 
the  one  and  only  act  that  could  bear  forth  the  life  and 
passion  of  my  soul.  And  I  swear  to  you  that  I  am  not 
sorry  for  it ;  I  was  born  into  a  new  life  by  it.  But  if 
I  have  therein  mortally  oifended  you,  may  God  help 
me,  for  no  human  being  then  can  !  I  shall  live  all  my 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  51 

appointed  time,  such  life  as  is  left  to  me ;  but  you  will 
stand  between  me  and  Hope — between  me  and  all 
manly  work — between  me  and  the  salvation  it  brings. 
I  have  no  hope  of  worthiness  hereafter  but  in  your 
sweet  pardon.  The  precious  treasure  I  have  sought  I 
will  not  again  seek,  by  word  or  look,  till  we  know 
each  other  better ;  but  let  me  believe  that  I  may  come 
near  to  you,  as  I  formerly  have,  without  feeling  you 
chill  to  stone  at  my  approach. 

J.  LEONARD  ANDERSON." 

I  had  glanced  at  the  face  which  hung  over  this  note 
more  than  once  during  its  perusal.  She  generally  read 
with  great  rapidity  and  quickness  of  apprehension, 
but  this  meaning  seemed  to  lie  deep,  or  her  faculties 
were  not  on  edge  to  sift  and  take  it  in.  I  was  immea- 
surably encouraged  by  her  lingering  over  it,  and 
secretly  delighted  to  see  her  deliberately  turn  back  in 
my  presence  and  read  it  a  second  time.  Then  she 
handed  it  to  me  with  a  trembling  hand  and  a  face 
white  as  marble.  When  I  returned  it  she  said,  "  Tell 
Col.  Anderson  that  I  fully  pardon  his  offense.  God 
knows  if  we  were  merciless  in  rejecting  such  gifts,  even 
though  they  come  unsought  and  are  abruptly  thrust 
upon  us,  the  world's  garden  would  show  bare  rocks 
for  many  a  bed  of  bloom  that  now  glorifies  it." 

The  tears  sprang  and  overflowed  as  she  spoke,  but 
she  turned  her  eyes  to  the  door  with  an  unmistakable 
glance  of  dismissal,  which  I  heeded  promptly,  feeling 
how  keenly  her  subdued  pride  would  demand  leave  to 
hide  its  defeat. 

I  found  Col.  Anderson  slowly  moving  up  and  down 
a  narrow  space  on  the  main  deck  in  front  of  the  cabin 
doors,  and  I  did  but  appear  there  when  he  came 


52  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

forward,  evidently  encouraged  and  uplifted  by  my  long 
tarry,  perhaps  also  by  the  glad  sympathy  of  my  face  ; 
for  as  he  reached  the  spot  where  I  stood  awaiting  him, 
he  seized  my  hand,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone,  that  seemed 
to  vibrate  his  whole  being,  "  She  forgives  me,  Miss 
Warren  ?" 

"  She  does,"  I  answered. 

"  Thank  God  1"  he  said  devoutly,  while  his  earnest 
eyes  filled  with  tears. 

I  wished,  oh  how  I  wished  that  delicacy  worthy  the 
high  character  of  my  friend  would  have  permitted  me 
to  add  another  word  for  the  man's  comfort;  but  it 
would  not.  I  simply  said,  therefore,  "  You  will  see 
her  now  again  on  the  old  terms." 

"  Miss  Warren,  I  thank  you  most  gratefully,"  he 
said,  clasping  my  hand  again.  "  You  have  done  me 
a  service  that  it  becomes  me  not  now  to  speak  of  as  I 
value  it,  but  you  shall  find  it  is  not  forgotten  if  we 
remain  long  within  each  other's  knowledge.  Pardon 
me  now,  I  have  need  of  being  alone ;  and  if  you  will 
permit  me  to  advise  you,  I  should  say,  do  not  stand 
here ;  the  wind  and  sea  are  increasing  momently,  as 
you  may  see  by  the  spray  that  drenches  the  decks." 

He  was  just  turning  to  enter  the  cabin,  wrhen  we 
heard  the  clear,  bird-like  voice  of  Master  Phil  calling 
to  him,  "  Turnel  Annerson,  will  you  p'ease  take  me  to 
my  mamma?  I  feel  so  sick."  And  the  pale,  delicate 
face,  looked  down  upon  us  from  the  promenade  deck. 

"  Yes,  Phil,  come  into  my  arms.  Poor  fellow,"  he 
said,  as  the  child's  "head  dropped  upon  his  shoulder. 
"  Miss  Warren,  would  you  be  kind  enough  to  go  before 
us  ?"  he  asked ;  and  I  did.  We  waited  at  the  door  a 
full  minute  before  it  was  opened  to  us,  and  then, 
though  she  stood  there  erect,  the  beautiful  religious 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  53 

light  that  shone  from  her  features  convinced  me  that 
her  last  attitude  had  been  the  humblest  and  meekest 
we  ever  assume.  I  had  never  seen  her  face  more 
radiant  and  tender  and  glowing,  as  by  a  light  and  life 
within.  We  entered  a  charmed  circle  in  placing 
ourselves  near  her. 

"  Col.  Anderson  has  brought  King  Philip  home 
sick,"  Mrs.  Bromfield,"  said  I. 

"  He  is  very  good  indeed,"  was  her  reply,  and  to  him, 
"  I  owe  you  many  thanks,  sir,  for  your  kindness  at  all 
times." 

"  You  could  not  possibly  owe  me  anything,  dear 
madam,"  said  he,  at  the  same  time  laying  Phil  down 
on  the  sofa.  "  If,  during  the  rough  weather,  I  can  in 
any  way  serve  yourself  or  the  boys,  by  means  I  do  not 
see,  I  hope  you  will  not  hesitate  to  suggest  them 
to  me." 

He  took  his  leave  with  these  words,  and  very 
shortly  poor  little  Harry  came  reeling  down,  with 
Mr.  Garth's  help,  also  pale  as  a  ghost,  and  begging 
room  to  lie  down  immediately.  They  were  soon 
asleep,  and  then  Mrs.  Bromfield,  putting  on  a  light 
close  bonnet  that  she  had  made  for  the  voyage, 
and  a  linen  sacque,  went  upon  deck.  I  remained 
below,  having  been  out  enough  for  that  day.  She  took 
much  to  the  decks  in  rough  weather,  to  keep  off  sick- 
ness and  to  accustom  herself  to  meet  and  overcome 
difficulties.  I  never  saw  a  woman  so  little  apt  to 
shrink,  and  take  the  easy  side  of  a  burden,  and  I  have 
a  right  to  know,  as  you  will  see  by-and-by. 

The  wind  continued  to  increase,  but  it  gave  us  no 
alarm,  for  we  had  a  stanch  ship  and  plenty  of  sea- 
room,  and  we  had  been  boarded  too  often  by  the  great 
waves  off  Cape  Horn,  an  the  coast  of  Buenos  Ayres, 


64  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

to  tremble  now  when  occasional  seas  broke  over  the 
forward  deck,  and  showered  the  whole  length  of  the 
vessel. 

Why  doesn't  Mrs.  Bromfield  come  down  ?  I 
thought.  She  staid  surprisingly,  considering  how 
rough  it  was  getting.  Poor  Mrs.  Farley  was  in  her 
berth,  notifying  us,  by  an  occasional  groan,  of  her 
discomfort — farther  we  scarcely  heard  or  thought  of 
her ;  though  I  found,  upon  going  in  to  see  her  before 
dinner,  that  Mrs.  Bromfield  had  been  twice  or  thrice 
there  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and  had  mixed  the 
little  lady's  favorite  doses  with  the  docility  of  a  child, 
though,  for  all  belief  in  their  efficacy,  she,  a  disciple  of 
Hahnemann,  would  sooner  have  offered  her  a  crust  of 
bread. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

It  was  near  dinner-time,  very  duskish  and  very- 
rough,  and  I  had  heard  for  a  long  time  no  feminine 
footfall  above.  I  wondered,  and  my  wonder  drew 
me  out  to  find  Mrs,  Bromfield,  standing  patiently 
there  by  Mr,  Garth — the  only  persons  on  deck  save 
the  two  men  at  the  wheel — listening  to  what  I  under- 
stood immediately,  though  I  could  not  hear  a  word  or 
tone  of  either  voice.  The  sight  of  me  seemed  to  re- 
mind her  to  move,  and  she  came  toward  the  companion- 
way,  saying :  "  Really,  Mr.  Garth,  I  have  lingered 
very  long,  speaking  and  listening;  pardon  me,  now, 
for  I  must  go  below,  to  prepare  for  dinner." 

He  handed  her  down  the  steps,  and  they  both  fol- 
lowed me  into  the  cabin. 

"  Are  the  boys  still  asleep,  dear  Miss  Warren  ?" 
she  asked, 

"  Yes.  Philip,  though,  looks  very  pale,"  I  said, 
taking  the  lamp  from  its  bracket,  and  holding  it 
near  him. 

"  Dear  little  king,  so  he  does !"  she  exclaimed, 
almost  with  alarm,  as  she  bent  over  without  touching 
him. 

"  Would  you  not  better  make  ready  for  dinner  ?"  I 
said,  "  and  let  us  get  Ching  to  call  the  Captain,  so 
that  that  dreadful  gong  won't  have  to  be  sounded.  It 
will  wake  them  both,  I  am  afraid." 


56  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  It  will,  to  a  certainty,"  she  replied.  "  Do,  dear, 
go  to  Ching  at  once.  I  dread  to  hear  a  peal  at  any 
moment,  it  is  so  late." 

u  I  will  tell  him  you  wish  it  omitted,"  said  I,  "  and 
that  will  settle  it."  She  smiled  on  me  in  a  saddened  sort 
of  acknowledgment  of  her  power,  to  which  I  knew  she 
had  just  been  receiving  fresh  testimony,  and  I  sought 
the  potent  Ching,  who  said,  with  great  urbanity,  when 
I  mentioned  Mrs.  Bromfield's  name : 

"  Surtin,  me  him  call,  coptane — no  ring." 

So  we  assembled  with  ominous  silence  to  dinner — 
our  last  dinner  on  board  the  Tempest. 

While  we  sat  eating  and  talking — for,  though  the 
gale  was  straining  hard  at  our  sails,  and  the  great  seas 
were  rushing  past  and  sometimes  over  us  with  devour- 
ing haste,  no  one  was  at  all  alarmed — King  Philip 
called  out,  "Mamma  dear,  I  want  to  have  some 
supper." 

"  Shall  I  bring  him  to  you,  Mrs.  Bromfield  ?"  asked 
Col.  Anderson,  rising. 

"  Thank  you,  no.  He  is  hardly  able,  I  think,  to 
sit  up.  "  I  will  give  him  some  toast  and  a  little  crust 
tea,  Ching,  if  you  please,  in  my  room." 

But  Phil  said  he  was  well,  and  wanted  the  "  Tnr- 
nel "  to  take  him  to  table.  So,  without  further  ado, 
Mrs.  Bromneld  sat  down  and  received  her  flower 
again  from  his  arms. 

"Dear,  dood  Turnel,"  said  the  boy,  passing  his 
hands  fondly  over  the  bearded  face.  "  I  love  you,  I 
do."  What  a  dewy  light  sprang  in  the  melting  eye 
of  the  elder,  at  those  words,  and  spread  all  over  his 
tine  features. 

The  child  will  unite  them,  I  said,  if  there  were  no 
other  bond.  And  he  looked,  as  lie  sat  by  his  worship- 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  57 

ing  mother,  sufficient  for  any  such  holy  mission.  His 
delicate  face,  a  little  paler  save  for  the  deep  rose-leaf 
on  each  cheek — his  profuse  wavy  hair,  moistened  and 
tumbled  by  his  sleep — his  sweet,  flexible  mouth,  play- 
ing with  a  tender,  dreamy  sort  of  smile,  as  if  the  skirts 
of  some  beautiful,  vision  of  shadow-land  yet  fell  about 
him — his  great  brown  eyes,  shaded  by  their  long,  heavy 
lashes,  made  a  picture  of  childish  loveliness  which  I 
believe  none  of  us  ever  forgot,  even  amid  the  horrors 
of  the  awful  night  that  followed. 

Harry  did  not  wake.  His  suffering  was  always 
more  obstinate,  his  mother  said,  than  Philip's,  and  so 
Ching  brought  a  plate  of  toast  and  a  bit  of  salt  dried 
fish,  which  was  always  his  first  meal,  and  placed  them 
for  use  whenever  he  should  wake. 

Col.  Anderson  had  a  bottle  of  Burgundy,  and  he 
sent  Ching  with  it,  and  his  compliments  to  me — after 
having  filled  a  glass  for  .Mrs.  Bromfield — then  back  to 
poor  Mrs.  Farley,  who  always  came  near  being  forgot- 
ten in  these  little  matters,  and  then  to  all  the  gentle- 
men. u  To  the  Tempest,"  he  said,  raising  his  glass, 
"  a  speedy  voyage,  and  a  happy  termination  of  it  to 
all  on  board." 

Mrs.  Bromfield,  Mrs.  Farley,  and  myself,  very  soon 
left  the  table,  for  Harry  had  called  out  ominously  for 
Ching,  and  his  mother  also  hastened  to  him. 

I  never  saw  a  child  whose  peculiarities  impressed 
me  as  Harry's  did ;  and  I  speak  of  them  here,  because 
of  the  strange  manifestation  of  one  of  the  most  striking 
of  them,  which  we  witnessed  that  night.  In  his  com- 
mon moods  he  appeared  to  be  simply  an  earnest,  quiet, 
thoughtful  boy,  very  much  like  other  good  and  sensible 
children ;  but  there  were  times  when  he  seemed 
another  being — when  he  impressed  those  who  saw  him 


58  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

as  looking  out  of  his  dreamy  eyes  into  a  distant  world. 
He  would  sit  by  himself  upon  some  coil  of  rope  in  an 
out  of  the  way  corner  of  the  deck,  and  look  into  the 
water  or  the  clouds,  with  a  long,  unbroken  gaze, 
which  betokened  both  inquiry  and  rest  in  his  mind ; 
and  when  approached,  he  would  seem  to  come  back 
as  from  a  trance.  His  mother  more  than  once  told  me 
of  startling  and  wonderful  speech  he  had  held  with  her 
on  these  occasions,  of  what  he  sometimes  saw — "  the 
angels'  gardens,"  he  said,  "  filled  with  more  beautiful 
flowers  than  we  ever  had ;  and  men  and  women,  and 
little  children,  so  handsome  and  good  and  loving,  that 
if  mamma  could  only  dream  his  dreams  about  them,  it 
would  make  her  very  happy." 

"  Do  the  angels  have  gardens,  mamma  ?"  he  asked 
after  one  of  these  dreams,  in  which  he  said  he  had  seen 
a  great  bank  of  purple  heliotropes^ — his  favorite  flower 
— blooming  beside  a  little  lake  so  clear — "  so  clear, 
mamma,  that  if  there  had  been  the  tiniest  little  fish  in  it 
I  could  have  seen  it  away  down  to  the  bottom." 

Yet  with  this  wonderfully  spiritual  life  the  boy 
combined  a  healthy,  active  nature :  was  full  of  play- 
fulness, and  physical  as  well  as  mental  activity ;  had  a 
keen  love  of  practical  jokes ;  and  when  he  could  get 
some  innocent  little  trick  upon  one  of  the  passengers 
or  crew,  whereby  they  were  or  appeared  to  be  sur- 
prised, his  spontaneous,  clear,  silvery  laugh,  would 
gush  out  of  his  young  heart  so  joyously  that  every  face 
around  him  smiled  in  pure  sympathy. 

I  was  impressed,  perhaps  wrongly,  that  Mrs.  Brom- 
field  loved  Phil  best,  but  that  she  held  Harry  in  a 
keen,  almost  painful  sense  of  his  being  a  rare  and 
exalted  treasure,  which  she  might  wake  some  morning 
to  find  flown  away  forever.  Her  tenderness  toward 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  59 

both  was  intense  and  untiring,  but  in  their  daily  life, 
Phil,  with  his  rogueries  and  graces,  was  besieging  and 
taking  captive  her  heart,  while  Harry  was  roaming  far 
away  in  the  celestial  gardens,  and  defining  in  his 
dreamy  fancy  lovely  islands  in  the  blue  and  purple  airs 
that  bent  over  him. 

"  He  will  be  a  poet  or  seer,"  I  think,  said  his  mother 
one  day,  when  we  stood  looking  from  a  distance  on  his 
fixed  eyes  and  rapt  countenance.  "  God  bless  the  dear 
child.  It  almost  seems,  at  times,  as  if  he  belonged  to 
some  higher  life  than  mine,  and  he  makes  me  tremble 
lest  I  should  have  to  let  him  too  soon  go  from  me." 

When  I  went  to  them  now  his  mother  stood  holding 
his  beautiful  head  in  her  hand,  and  stroking  the  hair 
back  from  his  pale  brow.  "My  dear  Harry,"  she 
expostulated,  "  do  not  make  yourself  so  unhappy. 
Nothing  has  happened  or  is  likely  to.  You  have  been 
dreaming,  darling." 

"  But,  mamma,"  persisted  the  child,  "  how  the  wind 
blows.  Do  you  feel  very  sure  that  we  are  a  great  way 
off  the  land  2" 

"  So  far,  dear,  as  to  be  quite  safe,  I  have  no  doubt." 
Harry  was  already  sailor  enough,  though  he  was  but 
seven  years  old,  to  understand  the  value  of  sea-room  in 
a  gale. 

"  Mamma,"  he  said,  after  a  moment,  "  come  close  to 
me,  will  you  ?  I  want  to  whisper  to  you.  Excuse  me, 
Miss  Warren,  I  want  to  ask  mamma  a  question." 
And  when  she  had  bent  over  him  a  minute  she  stood 
up  with  a  puzzled,  troubled  expression,  and  said, 
"  Yes,  my  darling,  if  you  wish  it  so  very  much ;  but 
can  you  not  wait  till  morning  ?" 

"No,  please  do  ask  him  now,  mamma,  I  feel  so 
badly." 


60  THE    IDEAL    ATTAIN  ED. 

She  stepped  into  the  cabin,  and  I  heard  her  say,  in 
those  clear,  frank  tones,  which  I  knew  rung  sweetly  in 
the  heart  of  the  listener,  "  Col.  Anderson,  Harry  has 
waked  in  an  unaccountable  fright,  which  all  my  assur- 
ance fails  .to  dispel,  and  he  begs  to  see  you.  Will  you 
do  us  the  favor  ?  It  is  quite  ridiculous,  but  the  child's 
fears  seem  so  real  that  I  cannot  chide  him." 

"Pray  do  not,  on  any  account,"  he  said.  "He 
thinks  I  am  a  famous  sailor,  and  he  will  believe  me 
when  I  tell  him  that  we  are  perfectly  safe.  Will  you 
not,  Harry  ?"  he  asked,  taking  his  hand.  "  We  are 
all  as  right  as  possible,  my  boy — going  on  grandly. 
In  a  few  days  more,  with  such  a  wind,  we  shall  see 
San  Francisco,  and  then  huy  for  shore.  How  glad 
you  and  King  Philip  will  be  then,  won't  you  ?" 

But  poor  Harry  could  not  be  lifted  out  of  his 
strange  depression  by  the  cheery  words  or  voice  of  his 
friend.,  "His  hands  are  very  cold,"  he  said,  taking 
them  in  his  warm,  sympathetic  clasp.  "  He  must  have 
had  an  alarming  dream,  which  does  not  leave  him. 
Have  you  not,  Harry?"  he  asked,  tenderly  touching 
his  lips  to  the  child's  pale,  smooth  cheek. 

In  answer  to  this  question  Harry  again  drew  his 
mother's  head  to  his  pillow,  and  we  heard  the  word 
"  father,"  and  some  whispered  question  following  it, 
to  which  she  answered  by  a  silent  shaking  of  her  head, 
and  when  she  again  stood  up,  her  troubled  face,  as  she 
regarded  him,  alarmed  me. 

Col.  Anderson  said,  "  Shall  I  take  you  up,  Harry, 
and  carry  you  out  a  few  minutes  ?  You  can  then  see 
how  the  old  ship  is  plowing  the  sea,  just  as  she  used  to 
at  Cape  Horn,  when  you  were  not  a  bit  frightened, 
although  it  was  very  cold  there." 

"Oh,   please    do!"    answered   the   child,    his  chin 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  01 

quivering  with  nervous  excitement  and  fear.  "  Mamma," 
lend  me  your  warm  shawl,  will  you?"  But  Mrs. 
Bro infield  seemed  to  be  paralyzed  by  Harry's  last 
communication,  and  stood  still,  while  the  Colonel  and 
I  wrapped  him  up,  and  he  was  borne  away  to  the 
great  dark  world  outside  the  cabin  doors. 

"  I  fear  he  is  going  to  be  ill,"  she  said  to  me,  after 
they  were  gone.  "  I  have  never  seen  him  so  affected 
before.  He  must  not  remain  out,  for  a  sudden  change 
of  temperature  might  now  be  very  dangerous."  But 
there  was  no  need  to  concern  ourselves  about  his 
remaining,  for  he  had  been  unable,  Col.  Anderson 
said,  coming  in  with  him,  to  bear  the  darkness  and  the 
wild  rush  of  winds  and  waters  a  moment.  It  quite 
overcame  him.  He  objected,  too,  to  being  undressed, 
and  begged  his  mother  to  let  him  sleep  in  his  clothes 
that  night,  an  unheard  of  request,  which  was  finally 
granted,  with  the  greatest  reluctance. 

Col.  Anderson  now  left  him  with  us,  and  walked 
out,  saying  he  would  return  after  a  little,  and  look  in 
again.  But  as  he  was  going  little  Phil  roused  himself 
from  the  sofa,  and  called  out,  "Dood  night,  Turnel, 
I  aint  afraid,  'ike  Harry,  I  aint.  I'm  doin'  to  bed  in 
night-down'." 

His  mother  smiled.  It  was  rare  to  hear  either  of 
the  children  boast,  and  as  the  little  braggart  came 
toward  her,  with  his  good-night  kiss  from  the  Colonel 
fresh  on  his  lips,  she  caught  him  up,  and  holding  him 
to  her  heart,  said,  "  Little  boaster,  to  say  you  are  not 
afraid ;  why,  what  would  you  do  if  mamma  were  gone  ? 
You'd  be  afraid  then,  I  think." 

"No,  I  should  not.  I  should  doe  wiz  Turnel." 
There  we  had  it  again;  and  the  Colonel,  happy  man, 
stood  looking  his  satisfaction  at  the  avowal. 


62  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

Poor  Harry  grew  physically  quieter  with  his 
mother's  potent  hand  upon  his  forehead,  and  an  occa- 
sional kiss  and  word  of  encouragement  murmured  in 
his  ear;  but  I  was  surprised,  after  an  hour's  absence 
in  the  cabin,  to  find  him  still  awake. 

Mrs.  Bromfield  sat  by  him,  looking  distressed  and 
alarmed.  The  boy  did  not  complain,  or  make  any 
childish  moan,  but  he  seemed  so  powerfully  impressed 
that  nothing  could  restore  or  wholly  calm  his  spirit. 
I  sat  by  him  while  his  mother  made  her  preparations 
for  lying  down  beside  him,  which  she  did  with  a 
dressing-gown  on,  remarking  that  she  might  have  to 
rise  in  the  night.  She  seemed,  I  remember,  particu- 
larly grateful  for  my  little  attentions,  and  honored  me 
with  an  unreserved  kiss  when  we  bade  each  other  good 
night. 

King  Philip  was  sound  asleep,  and  rosy  and  tempt- 
ing as  a  beautiful  bud  one  sees  sometimes,  and  irre- 
sistibly plucks,  though  knowing  well  that  it  ought  to 
remain  and  mature  where  the  good  Father  placed  it. 

Blest  above  all  women,  thought  I — with  perhaps  a 
little,  a  very  little  dash  of  bitterness,  as  I  withdrew  to 
my  lonely  room — with  two  such  children — diamonds 
set  in  the  crown  of  her  womanhood — and  so  devoted 
and  noble  a  lover  to  make  smooth  the  earth  before  her 
feet,  would  she  but  permit  him.  And  she  will,  I  went 
on  saying  to  myself;  she  will  love  him  and  return  him 
measure  for  measure  yet. 

I  laid  down  with  pleasant  thoughts,  or  rather  waking 
dreams  of  these  people,  in  a  beautiful  home  where 
I  saw  them  enjoying  the  heaven  of  each  other's  life — 
refinement  a  pervading  presence  everywhere  in  it — 
her  clear  spirituality  and  idealism  brought  to  anchor 
sometimes  by  his  earnest  and  more  practical  hold  upon 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  63 

the  world  ;  and  his  nobleness  chiseled  and  polished  by 
her  artist  hand — love  making  light  the  task — till  it 
stood  a  fit  presence  for  the  first  and  highest  anywhere. 
I  heard  his  step  overhead,  quicker  and  lighter  than  it 
had  been  in  the  last  few  days,  yet  firm  and  decided,  as 
of  a  man  who  says  in  his  soul,  "  I  see  the  Good  and 
the  Great,  and  all  earth- shall  not  turn  me  from  the 
pursuit  of  them." 

The  wind  seemed  to  increase  and  madden  the  sea 
more  and  more,  yet  the  ship  had  a  steadier  motion 
than  in  the  hours  of  light,  and  I  knew  we  must  be 
going  a  great  many  knots  every  hour.  This  was  about 
my  last  waking  thought. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

When  next  I  became  conscious,  it  was  in  such  a 
scene  and  moment  as  I  pray  God  I  may  never  again 
have  to  participate.  A  great  crash  and  shock,  which 
made  the  ship  reel  and  shiver  like  a  strong  man  sud- 
denly struck  down — an  unearthly,  awful  cry  of  human 
voices — an  instantaneous  rush  of  men's  feet — and  over 
all  distinctly  rose  the  terrible  words  from  the  officer  of 
the  deck,  "  Lay  aft  here  and  man  the  wheel,  quick  !" 

"  Ay  ay,  sir !"  and  as  the  men  hurried  to  obey  the 
order,  the  Tempest  fetched  a  great  lurch  toward  the 
larboard  quarter,  that  threw  me  on  my  knees.  The 
lamps  arid  other  light  articles  had  been  thrown  from 
brackets  and  racks,  and  rolling  about  the  floors  or 
dashing  into  fragments  around  us,  added  to  the  sense 
of  helplessness  I  felt  for  a  single  moment. 

Mrs.  Farley  was  shrieking  and  calling  on  God  and 
man  for  help,  but  I  heard  no  sound  from  that  room 
beyond,  which  contained  so  much. 

I  had  but  recovered  my  feet  and  laid  my  hand  on 
my  dressing-gown,  when  Col.  Anderson's  voice  reached 
me  in  these  fearful  words : 

"  The  ship  has  been  run  into.  Be  on  your  feet  as 
soon  as  possible,  every  one.  I  will  be  here  again  in  a 
moment." 

How  calmly  he  spoke.  Mrs.  Farley  heard,  and 
then  redoubled  her  shrieks  and  cries,  but  there  was  vet 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  65 

no  sound  from  Mrs.  Bromfield.  I  took  my  dressing- 
gown,  and  putting  it  on  as  I  went,  (the  saloon  was 
dark  as  well  as  my  room,)  found  her,  just  lighting  a 
wax  taper.  I  spoke  her  name  and  opened  the  door  in 
the  same  breath. 

"  Oh  Miss  Warren,"  she  said,  "  how  are  my  dar- 
lings to  be  saved  ?  The  horror  is  worse  than  the  worst 
result  of  it  can  be.  Look  there,"  she  added,  speaking 
low,  and  with  the  slightest  motion  indicating  Harry, 
who  lay  broad  awake,  with  a  face  that,  but  for  the 
light  and  intelligence  of  the  eyes,  would  have  been  the 
fac-simile  of  death. 

Not  an  instant  was  lost  during  the  utterance  of 
these  few  whispered  words.  I  was  paralyzed  myself, 
but  she  had  put  on  additional  clothing,  and  taken  a 
dark  merino  dress,  in  which  she  now  stood,  from  one 
of  her  trunks,  ready  to  address  herself  to  the  care  of 
her  children.  Harry,  you  will  remember,  was  dressed, 
and  so,  as  she  bent  over  him  to  take  Philip  np,  she 
only  kissed  his  eyelids,  which  closed  a  moment  under 
her  blanched  lips,  and  said,  "  Trust  mamma,  dear 
Harry." 

"  But  I  saw  father  again  just  now,  mamma  dear," 
said  the  boy. 

A  cold  dew  broke  over  his  mother's  face  at  these 
words,  but  she  stopped  not  a  moment.  "  My  flower, 
my  jewel,  my  king,"  she  said,  lifting  Philip  from  his 
sound  sleep  and  bringing  him  forward  to  the  sofa,  where 
his  garments  lay,  ready  to  be  put  on.  "Would  God 
you,  my  darlings,  were  past  the  terrors  that  are 
before  us." 

Philip  rubbed  his  eyes  and  tossed  his  hair  back, 
and,  looking  at  me,  and  the  strange  light,  and  heark- 
ening a  moment  to  the  noise  without,  asked,  "Are 
we  doein'  ashore,  mamma?" 


00  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  Yes,  love,  in  a  small  boat.  Does  Philip  hear  the 
men  letting  it  down  into  the  water?"  as  the  lusty 
"  Yo,  heave  ho  !"  and  the  creaking  of  the  blocks  sound- 
ed in  our  ears. 

This  brought  me  out  of  my  stupor ;  for,  though  I 
had  been  conscious  of  everything  she  had  done  and 
said,  I  did  not,  till  these  warnings  came,  remember 
that  I  had  anything  to  do  but  wait  and  go  down  with 
the  ship  to  her  deep  and  silent  home.  There  had 
scarcely  yet  been  to  me  a  perceptible  period  of  time 
since  the  first  awful  moment ;  but  now  I  started  to  my 
room  with  a  full  sense  of  what  I  ought  to  try  to  do. 
Mrs.  Farley  had  got  a  light  and  was  packing  a  trunk. 

"  Oh  Miss  Warren,"  she  groaned,  "  to  think  of  all 
my  trunks  and  clothes  away  down  in  the  hold !" 

"  You  had  better  think  now  of  your  soul  and  body," 

1  replied,   with   some    asperity,    and    passed    on.     I 
dressed   myself ;    put   a  small   box,  containing  some 
jewels  and  treasured   mementoes,  and   that   lock   of 
Herbert's  hair,  which  had  been  sent  me  in  place  of 
him,  on  wrhat  was  to  have  been  our  wedding-day,  into 
my  bosom ;  and  over  all  I  threw  a  light  gray  wrapper, 
which  had  hung  on  my  wall  since  our  last  cold  day, 
and  then  I  was  ready.     My  watch !  should  I  take  it  ? 
What  matter  whether  it  went  down  with  the  ship  or 
me — for  I  had  no  hope.     I  had  acted  mechanically  in 
all  I  had  done.     The  things  I  had  taken  were  related 
to  my  heart-life  :  as  long  as  I  could  think,  I  should  feel 
happier  and  stronger  for  having  them  near  it. 

I  now  returned  to  Mrs.  Bromfield's  room,  stopping 
a  moment  by  the  way,  to  silence,  if  possible,  Mrs. 
Farley's  weak  and  irritating  lamentations,  and  set  her 
at  work  in  some  reasonable  way ;  for  she  was  sailing 
about  in  an  elaborately  wrought  night-dress,  packing 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  67 

her  finery  as  carefully  as  if  the  Tempest  lay  beside  the 
wharves  of  San  Francisco.  My  words,  however,  had 
the  contrary  effect  to  silencing  her. 

Oh  dear !"  she  exclaimed,  "  oh  Lord !  and  all  my 
new  dresses  and  shawls  to  be  lost !  Two  thousand  dol- 
lars' worth,  Miss  Warren,  and  every  one  ,as  good  as 
new.  Oh  my  God,  my  poor  soul !  Have  mercy  on  me !" 
It  was  idle  staying  there.  I  could  neither  comfort 
nor  help  that  spirit,  so  I  passed  on.  When  I  entered 
Mrs.  Bromtield's  room  Phil  sat  on  his  mother's  knee, 
folded  close  to  her  bosom,  his  head  resting  quietly 
there,  while  with  the  other  arm  over  Harry's  form  she 
was  gently  stroking  his  cold  forehead.  They  were  all 
silent — a  group  such  as  Life  seldom  exhibits  and  the 
sublimest  Art  could  never  reproduce.  Waiting  thus, 
as  it  were,  the  trump  of  doom,  we  stood  and  sat.  I 
was  now  entirely  collected  for  any  event.  Perhaps  my 
fears  were  somewhat  excited,  for  I  imagined  the  ship 
was  settling  astern,  though  we  did  not  then  know 
where  she  had  been  struck. 

The  "  Yo,  heave  ho !"  was  yet  sounding  upon  deck, 
and,  at  times,  I  thought  I  still  heard  another  awful 
human  call  coming  from  farther  off;  and  then  I  remem- 
bered the  order  of  Mr.  Watkins,  the  first  officer,  for 
fresh  hands  to  man  the  wheel.  I  now  began  to  under- 
stand that  the  helmsmen  (there  were  four  when  I  had 
been  on  deck  the  last  time  in  the  evening)  must  have 
been  disabled  by  the  collision  in  some  way,  or — oh, 
inexpressible  horror ! — carried  clear  away  in  that  wild 
sea.  And  theirs,  then,  were  the  terrible  cries  we  had 
heard,  and  which  I  was  sure  the  wind  still  bore  to  us 
at  intervals. 

I  could  not  speak  to  Mrs.  Bromfield,  on  account  of 
the  children ;  for  I  saw  that  Phil  was  very  quietly 


68  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

awaiting  a  comfortable  landing,  and  that  now  the 
worst  had  come,  she  was  getting  the  better  of  Harry's 
nervous  excitement.  The  child  was  less  rigid  and 
deathly  as  she  bent  over  and  breathed  upon  him,  and 
indeed  I  know  not  who  could  have  resisted  the  inflow 
of  that  calm  will,  and  clear,  purposeful  life,  in  such  a 
moment. 

There  were  steps  hurrying  down  the  companion- 
way,  and  by  a  glance  of  her  eye  she  implored  me  to  go 
out  and  meet  the  intelligence.  It  was  Colonel  An- 
derson. 

"  Is  she  ready  ?"  were  his  first  words. 

"  Quite  ready,"  I  replied,  "  for  anything." 

"  God  be  praised.  Captain  Landon  is  of  opinion 
that  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  leave  the  ship  till  day- 
light. I  do  not  know.  The  boats  are  all  lowered, 
and  we  are  getting  water  and  provisions  into  them, 
but  as  we  have  no  means  of  judging  of  the  extent  of 
the  injury,  except  by  the  pumps,  and  the  rush  of  water 
may  increase  instantly  should  a  heavy  sea  make  the 
breach  larger,  we  must  be  ready  to  go  at  a  moment's 
warning."  And  then  he  explained  that  the  ship  lost 
her  course,  or  went  about,  or  something  of  that  sort, 
before  fresh  hands  could  be  got  to  the  wheels  when  the 
others  were  carried  away. 

"  Oh,  God's  mercy !"  I  said  ;  "  then  they  were  the 
cries  of  those  poor  creatures  that  I  have  heard." 

"  Yes,  they  were  all  carried  away  but  one,  who 
caught  by  the  stern  boat,  and  came  in — from  a  quick 
grave,  perhaps,  to  a  slow  one,"  he  added.  "  God  only 
knows." 

"  Can  I  see  her  ?"  he  asked,  after  a  moment,  "  and 
can  that  unfortunate  little  woman "  (meaning  Mrs. 
Farley)  "  be  quieted  in  any  way  ?" 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  69 

"  I  will  let  you  know,"  I  replied  to  his  first  ques- 
tion, and  I  soon  returned  from  Mrs.  Bromfield's  room, 
telling  him  that  she  was  very  anxious  to  see  him. 

I  stopped  a  moment  at  Mrs.  Farley's  door,  and, 
heaven  forgive  me,  I  did  deceive  her  a  little — a  very 
little ;  for  it  was  true  that  I  felt  much  relieved  by  what 
I  had  heard,  and  the  horror  was  greatly  mitigated, 
certainly,  if  we  should  not  have  to  take  to  the  boats 
in  the  darkness  of  night  on  that  wild  sea.  When  I 
told  her  this,  in  a  half  dozen  almost  impatient  words, 
the  little  soul  dropped  down  upon  her  largest  trunk, 
with  revived  hopes,  I  am  sure,  of  being  able  to  save  all 
its  precious  contents  yet. 

"  Oh,  if  it  is  daylight,  she  said,  that  will  be  differ- 
ent." 

"  Quite,"  I  replied,  hurrying  off,  in  my  impatience, 
as  well  to  be  rid  of  her  as  to  be  in  the  presence  of 
others. 

When  I  entered  the  room  whose  occupant  it  seemed 
no  longer  necessary  that  Col.  Anderson  or  I  should 
designate  by  her  name,  her  cold,  pallid  hand,  was 
holding  his  convulsively,  and  her  eyes,  distended  beyond 
even  their  ordinary  size,  were  fixed  upon  his  face. 

"  Tell  me,  dear  sir,  what  we  have  to  expect. 
Where  are  we,  and  what  has  really  happened  to  us  ? 
Is  there  any  hope  for — "  and  her  eyes  fell  upon  her 
treasures  without  a  further  word. 

"  We  have  reason  to  suppose  ourselves  not  very  far 
from  Rescue  Island,"  he  replied.  a  We  were  in  its  lati- 
tude to-day,  and  perhaps  it  is  fortunate  that  we  made 
westing  enough,  in  that  idle  calm,  to  carry  us  near  its 
longitude,  though  we  have  since  run  a  good  way  to  the 
eastward." 

"  And  our  injury  ?" 


70  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  We  have  been  struck,  apparently  by  a  vessel  of 
near  our  own  size,  and  it  is  impossible  to  ascertain  the 
extent  of  damage.  You  hear  the  pumps,  and  the  water 
is  gaining  fearfully,  as  you  perceive  by  the  ship's  set- 
tling astern,  as  she  does.  Still,  Captain  Landon  thinks 
we  can  stay  by  her  till  daylight  at  least — perhaps 
longer." 

"  But  if  not  ?" 

"Then,  the  boats  being  lowered  and  stowed,  we 
shall  have  to  take  our  chances,  my  dear  friend ;  and 
all  that  strong  arms  and  willing  hearts  can  do,  the 
helpless  may  rely  on.  "We  have  noble  officers,  a  brave 
crew,  I  believe,  generally,  and  I  think  you  know  the 
passengers  well  enough  to  need  no  assurance  from  me, 
that  they  will  behave  at  least  with  the  courage  of  men, 
if  not  always  with  their  prudence" 

"  God  bless  you,  Col.  Anderson.  I  need  not  say 
how  much  my  life  at  this  moment  lies  without  my  own 
proper  self.  But  among  the  painful  thoughts  of  this 
hour,  not  the  least  is  that  a  life  not  belonging  to  me  is 
exposed  to  this  awful  hazard  through — my — " 

"  Through  that  divine  power  clothing  you,  which 
makes  this  a  happy  moment  to  me.  To  have  a  life  to 
offer  you — to  have  health  and  strength,  which  I  never 
valued  so  highly  as  at  this  instant — to  have  endurance, 
which  I  have  never  yet  found  wanting,  when  the 
motive  was  only  the  preservation  of  my  own  life,  or  of 
some  other  scarcely  as  worthy — ought  I  not,  with  all 
this,  to  be  a  calm,  if  not  a  happy  man,  now  ?  God 
forgive  me  if  my  state  of  mind  borders  almost  too  much 
on  the  latter  condition  ;  but  I  feel  so  strong,  so  capable 
to  take  all  you  precious  ones,  as  it  were,  in  the  car 
of  my  will,  and  bear  you  to  some  safe  spot  of  rest 
in  these  seas,  that  I  cannot  but  be  thankful  to  Him 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  71 

that  I  am  hero  with  you.  Miss  Warren,  you  are  to  be 
one  of  us,"  he  said,  turning  to  me.  "Antonio  has 
already  been  to  me,  to  engage  for  the  special  care  of 
Harry ;  and  as  he  is  a  brave  fellow,  and  could  outswim 
a  whale,  I  believe,  I  have  promised,  with  your  ap- 
proval, Mrs.  Bromfield,  to  ask  Captain  Landon  to 
attach  him  to  our  boat's  crew." 

"  Would  you  like  that,  dearest  ?"  said  the  mother, 
turning  to  her  boy,  who  had  heard  all  without  uttering 
a  word. 

"  Yes,  mamma,  but  I  am  not  to  go  from  you,  and 
Philip,  and  the  Colonel,  and  Miss  Warren,  am  I  ?" 

"No,  my  precious,  you  shall  sit  with  my  arm 
around  you,  as  now,  only — only  if — if  anything  should 
happen  again  to  us,  good  Antonio  would  help  you 
better  than  I  can.  You  see,  dear,  do  you  1" 

"  Yes,  mamma.  Can  I  get  up  and  go  out  with 
you,  Colonel  Anderson  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  boy,  for  a  minute,"  he  replied.  "  Have 
no  fear,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  mother's  startled  face, 
"  I  will  not  leave  him." 

"  What  a  blessing  that  Phil  has  fallen  asleep,"  I 
said,  when  they  were  gone. 

"  Yes,  the  darling,  he  knows  nothing  of  the  terror, 
and  went  to  sleep,  waiting  for  the  boats  to  get  ready 
to  take  us  ashore." 

Mrs.  Farley  met  Col.  Anderson  and  Harry  at  the 
door.  She  came  in,  and  Mrs.  Bromfield,  laying  Phil 
out  of  her  arms,  rose,  and  asking  her  to  sit,  said, 
"You  will  excuse  me  a  moment,  I  hope.  I  am 
benumbed  with  my  constrained  position,  and  the  chill- 
ing fear  I  have  endured.  I  must  go  out  for  a  little,  as 
well  for  the  motion  as  to  see  with  my  own  eyes  what 
I  hope  I  may  never  have  to  look  upon  again." 


72  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

I  followed  her.  Without,  lights  were  burning  on 
all  the  decks,  from  stem  to  stem,  of  the  noble  ship, 
which  drooped  back  in  the  water,  as  an  eagle  with 
suddenly  fractured  pinion  would  falter  and  sink  from 
his  empyrean  flight.  All  was  bustle  and  movement 
around  us.  Water-casks  were  being  lowered  away 
into  the  boats,  with  sacks  of  bread,  hams,  and  cheese, 
and  cases  of  stores ;  all  the  pumps  were  manned,  and 
being  worked  with  such  a  purpose  as  men  show  when 
struggling  for  life.  Mr.  Garth,  without  coat  or  hat, 
was  at  the  one  nearest  us,  with  Mr.  Pedes  beside  him ; 
and  poor  pale  Mr.  Wilkes  stood  by  one  of  the  tackles, 
to  make  fast  to  the  articles  that  were  to  be  sent  down 
to  the  boats. 

Col.  Anderson  and  Harry  had  just  returned  from 
the  stern  of  the  vessel,  as  Mrs.  Bromfield  and  I  were 
reentering  the  cabin. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  the  boy  is  a  hero  ;  he 
knows  all,  and  will  not  tremble  any  more.  Take 
him  in,  madam,  for  I  must  go  to  my.  post  yonder." 

In  a  few  minutes  Captain  Landon  entered,  looking 
very  pale,  his  gray  hair  disheveled  and  drenched  with 
spray  of  the  salt  sea,  and  the  perspiration  which 
exhaled  copiously  from  his  face,  and  stood  in  beads 
upon  his  forehead.  He  took  Mrs.  Bromfield's  hand, 
and  bowed  to  me  and  Mrs.  Farley. 

"  I  should  have  come  to  you  sooner,  ladies,"  he 
said,  "  but  I  knew  Col.  Anderson  would  say  all  that  I 
could.  We  might  be  much  Avorse  off  than  we  are, 
though  God  knows  it  is  bad  enough.  You  are  all 
ready,  I  see,  and  that  is  right ;  for,  though  I  hope  for 
some  hours  yet,  we  cannot  tell  how  it  may  be ;  but 
while  we  wait,  the  wind  is  abating  and  the  sea  falling, 
which  is  much  to  be  grateful  for.'5 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  73 

"  Have  you  a  hope  of  ultimate  escape  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Bromfield. 

"  A  hope  I  certainly  have,  ma'am.  Sailors  are  the 
last  men  to  abandon  that ;  and  our  case  is  not  so 
desperate  as  it  might  be.  We  have  good  boats,  and 
enough  of  them,  with  our  small  complement  of  passen- 
gers, not  to  have  to  crowd  any;  and  if  no  rough 
weather  comes  across  us  for  some  days,  which  is  less 
likely  since  this  long  blow,  we  shall  make  land  safely, 
I  think — though  what  will  await  us  there,  Heaven 
only  knows.  There  have  been  terrible  imprisonments 
on  some  of  the  uninhabited  islands  hereaway.  But  we 
will  hope  and  work  for  the  best.  You,  ma'am,  had 
better  prepare  a  trunk  of  clothing  for  yourself  and  the 
children,  and  you  two  ladies  can,  I  think,  take  one 
between  you." 

"  And  am  I  to  lose  all  my  clothes,  Captain  3"  asked 
Mrs.  Farley,  piteously. 

"  Better  them  than  yourself,  I  think,  madam,"  was 
his  reply.  "  And  make  yourselves  ready  to  go  at  a 
moment's  warning,  for  I  perceive  she  is  taking  in  water 
very  fast  these  last  few  minutes." 

He  was  gone,  and  Mrs.  Bromh'eld,  who  had  Harry's 
hand  in  hers,  seated  him  on  the  sofa,  and,  opening  her 
trunks,  began  to  fill  one  with  selected  garments  from 
the  others,  while  Mrs.  Farley  and  I  went  about  tho 
same  task  for  ourselves.  And  oh  the  lamentations  of 
the  little  woman !  and  the  difficulty  of  choosing,  and 
the  sorrow  of  leaving ! 

The  twilight  was  well  advanced  when  I  closed  the 

joint-stock  trunk,  and  put  the  key  in  my  pocket.    Just 

as  I  was  taking  the  last  look  about  my  room,  with  u 

heart  saddened  by  many  inexpressible  thoughts  and 

4 


74r  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

regrets  for  things  I  must  leave  to  tlie  hungry  waters,  I 
heard  little  Phil's  voice  in  the  saloon. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  how  'is  ship  do  stand  all  'e  time  up 
hill.  What  makes  it  ?"  and  then,  receiving  no  answer, 
"  Mamma,  I  want  to  doe  to  Turnel  Annerson." 

"  No,  not  now,  Philip,"  said  I,  meeting  him  ;  "  Col. 
Anderson  is  getting  ready  to  take  us  all  ashore,  and 
so  we  must  wait."  He  was  very  docile  in  the  expect- 
ation of  this  welcome  event,  and  sat  down  in  the  saloon 
with  me.  Ching  came  and  made  preparations  to  lay 
some  breakfast,  which  we  assembled  to  at  the  last 
sound  of  the  gong,  for  it  was  hardly  over,  Captain 
Landon  and  Col.  Anderson  being  absent,  when  the 
word  went  fore  and  aft,  "  To  the  boats  !  to  the  boats !" 
At  the  same  moment  the  Colonel  entered  the  cabin. 

"Are  you  weddy,  Turnel,"  asked  Phil,  "to  doe 
ashore  ?" 

"  Yes,  Philip,  come  with  me  now,"  he  said,  taking 
his  cue  from  the  child's  words  ;  and  away  he  went,  as 
gleeful  as  an  escaped  bird  to  the  woodlands. 

"Don't  undeceive  him,  as  you  hope  for  heaven," 
said  his  mother ;  "  Harry's  silent  suffering  is  all  I  can 
bear." 

"  I  will  not,  dear  madam  ;  and  I  strongly  hope  that 
our  experience  will  not  either.  The  weather  is  becom- 
ing better  every  hour." 

One  by  one,  slowly,  as  it  seemed  to  those  who  were 
waiting,  we  went  over  the  ship's  side.  There  were 
three  large  boats,  and  a  small  one.  In  ours,  which 
was  the  largest,  there  were,  beside  ourselves,  no  other 
passengers  but  Col.  Anderson,  the  Captain  and  fourth 
mate,  Antonio,  Ching,  and  eight  of  the  ablest  seamen. 
Mr.  Watkins,  the  mate,  had  charge  of  another,  in 
which  was  Mr.  Garth  ;  and  Messrs.  Pedes  and  Wilkes 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  75 

went  with  Mr.  Hepburn,  the  third  mate.  Each  boat 
was  furnished  with  its  own  supplies  and  implements, 
and  all  were  directed  to  hold  by  each  other  as  long  as 
possible  ;  and  in  any  case  to  head  west-south-west,  and 
search,  if  they  were  separated  from  the  others,  for 
Rescue  Island,  whose  latitude  and  longitude  were  given 
them. 

Poor  little  Phil  was  sadly  puzzled  and  vexed  not  to 
see  the  land ;  but  we  were  too  much  weighed  down  by 
the  fearful  lot  before  us,  and  the  exhausting  emotions 
of  the  last  four  or  five  hours,  to  heed  his  many  ques- 
tions, as  he  was  accustomed  to  have  us. 

The  ship  was  deep  in  the  water  when  we  left  her — 
so  deep  that  I  foolishly  shuddered,  going  over  her  side, 
lest  she  should  suddenly,  in  a  moment,  drop  from  under 
my  feet.  For  I  had  but  litle  idea  of  the  awful  specta- 
cle of  a  great  ship  going  into  its  grave  of  waters,  as  we 
saw  it,  after  leaving  her,  while  we  yet  lay  upon  the 
waves  that  were  ready  to  rush  over  and  bury  her. 

Oh,  it  was  a  fearful  sight !  The  tall  masts  rocking 
so  low  in  the  surging  seas,  the  black  bulwarks  alter- 
nately sinking  into  and  vainly  heaving  up  against 
them,  the  steady  march  of  the  deadly  waters,  up,  and 
up,  and  up,  every  receding  wave  rioting  in  its  fullest 
triumph  over  the  conquered  king — and  then  the  fierce 
tongues,  that,  as  it  sinks,  lap  eagerly  over  the  noble 
decks,  where  you  have  walked,  chatted,  read,  rested, 
enjoyed  and  suffered — perhaps  filled  the  circle  of 
experiences — the  agonized  shiver  of  the  masts,  as  their 
mad  foes  rush  fiercely  in,  to  seize  and  uproot  them — 
and  finally,  the  great  swirl  and  audible  groan  with 
which  the  battle  is  given  over,  and  the  surrender  made, 
are  sickening  to  behold.  I  shudder  now  at  the 
remembrance  of  what  I  describe  so  feebly. 


CHAPTEE    VIII. 

Out  upon  the  broad,  awful  ocean,  whose  good 
nature — the  very  smile  of  God — is  our  only  trust — 
nothing  visible  but  our  little  fleet,  and  a  world  of 
rolling  waters  and  blue  sky,  thickly  dotted  with  fleecy 
clouds,  whose  friendly  shadows  fall  gratefully  upon  our 
course.  Some  sails  and  spars  had  been  provided,  and 
the  first  two  days  were  busily  spent  in  rigging  these  • 
but  the  sea  being  quiet,  and  the  winds  very  light,  our 
progress  was  chiefly  made  by  rowing.  Nevertheless, 
we  parted  from  the  small  boat  on  the  third  night,  and 
at  the  dawn  of  the  fifth  day  we  saw  but  one,  a  long 
way  astern  of  us.  This  gave  us  some  uneasiness,  but 
we  were  reassured,  as  well  for  ourselves  as  for  those 
whom  the  missing  boats  contained,  that,  as  long  as  the 
weather  continued  smooth,  we  were  as  well  without  as 
with  them  ;  that  each  had  its  own  supplies,  and  only 
in  case  of  accident  would  one  be  needed  or  able  to 
serve  another,  and  in  that  case,  we  were  as  likely  to  be 
hopelessly  separated  in  a  short  time  as  we  now  were. 

All  this  the  Captain  and  Colonel  Anderson  told  us 
more  than  once,  yet  to  the  last  hour  of  that  eventful 
voyage,  I  felt  misgivings  and  heart-sinkings,  after  we 
were  alone,  that  I  should  not  have  experienced  had 
our  weary  eyes  been  blessed  with  the  sight  of  any 
living  things  beside  ourselves. 

We  bore  the  confinement  and  the  tediousness  won- 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.     .  77 

derfully  well.     The  first  night,  I  think,  no  one  slept  a 
moment  but  the  dear,  quiet  children,  whose  mother 
watched  and  tended  them  without  a  word  or  sigh  ex- 
pressive of  weariness.     Phil  was  now  and  then,  during 
the  day,  passed  along  from  our  quarters,  in  the  stern, 
to  the  Colonel,  amidships  ;  and  Harry  was  sometimes 
permitted  to  go  forward   to  the  oarsmen,  and  sit  or 
stand  with  those  who  were  resting ;  but  his  mother 
let  go  of  him  always  with  lingering  reluctance,  and 
received  him  again  with  silent  ecstacy — both,  in  their 
peculiar  degree,  the  result  of  his  extraordinary  mental 
condition  on  the  night  of  our  disaster.     Occasionally 
they  had  a  game  of  dominoes,  for  their  thoughtful 
mother  had  not  forgotten  in  her  terror  the  importance 
of  sustaining  their  cheerfulness  and  courage.     A  large 
basket  which  she  had  under  our  seat  contained  some 
of  their  choicest  resources,  and  along  with  other  things, 
an  illustrated   "  Robinson   Crusoe "   of  Harry's,  and 
Phil's  copy  of  "  Mrs.   Easy's  Khymes  and  Stories." 
When  these  were  for  the  time  exhausted,  Mrs.  Brom- 
field  sat  by  the  hour  improvising  stories  to  them — 
stories  of  sea  and  land — of  fairies  and  men — of  beasts, 
birds,  and  fishes ;  to  many  of  which,  older  ears  than 
theirs  listened  with  eager  pleasure,  so  exquisite  were 
the  imaginations,   so  rich   and   varied  the  childlike 
thought,  often  laden  with  another  and  higher  and  sad- 
der significance  than  the  young  souls  apprehended. 
I  received  many  beautiful  lessons  in  these  effusions ; 
it  was  a  lesson — perhaps  the  greatest  of  all — to  see  the 
mother  thus  self-forgetful ;  putting  aside  fear,  intense 
weariness,    disgust — all    the   annoyances    and   shocks 
which  her  keen   delicacy  and  deep  refinement  had  to 
endure  day  by  day — and  living  wholly  in  the  one  sub- 
lime devotion  that  dethroned  them  all. 


Y8 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 


Mrs.  Farley  never  recovered  the  sight  of  the  sinking 
ship  with  all  her  trunks  on  board,  and  sat  and  drooped 
through  the  days  and  nights,  seeming,  much  of  the 
time,  indifferent  to  everything  but  her  foods  and 
drinks.  Her  poor  little  external  being  had  withered 
up  like  a  shallow  stream  when  its  fountain-head  is  cut 
off,  as  one  sees  so  many  hundreds  of  such  women  do  in 
ordinary  life,  when  misfortune  deprives  them  of  their 
dresses  and  shawls  and  embroideries. 

Col.  Anderson,  who  was  as  indefatigable  as  the 
wind  or  the  sea,  and  as  quiet  and  unobtrusive  as  they 
both  were  now,  had  fitted  up,  with  ropes  and  some 
light  bits  of  wood  made  fast  to  the  sides  of  the  boat, 
just  forward  of  the  part  assigned  to  us,  a  curtain  of  sail- 
cloth, so  that,  dropping  that,  we  were  to  all  practical 
purposes  in  an  apartment  of  our  own,  though  its 
dimensions  were  some  thousands  of  miles  in  extent. 
His  consideration  and  delicacy  in  all  things  were  above 
praise,  and  then  he  was  so  entirely  undemonstrative, 
doing  every  possible  act  of  kindness,  and  refusing  our 
fervent  gratitude  to  himself  by  acknowledging  it  for 
the  whole  company. 

E"o  demonstration  did  he  make,  in  these  days,  of  his 
great  love  ;  scarcely  by  a  stolen  glance  of  compassion- 
ate tenderness  at  her  weary  face  could  I  now  and  then 
detect  that  it  still  existed.  And  as  for  the  object  of  it, 
she  seemed  to  have  risen  to  sublimer  hights  of  life 
than  ever.  Neither  complaining  nor  indifferent — 
thankful  when  served,  and  never  omitting  a  service 
which  her  confinement  and  cares  permitted  her  to  offer 
to  any — with  a  cheering  or  helpful  word  for  all  when- 
ever she  spoke — she  sat  before  us,  day  after  day,  the 
grandest  instance  of  self-abnegation  I  have  ever  seen. 
"When  she  could  no  longer  sustain  the  loss  of  sleep,  she 
would  commit  the  children,  if  awake,  to  Col.  Anderson 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  79 

and  myself,  or  Antonio,  and  showing  me  her  watch, 
would  bid  me  wake  her  at  a  certain  hour,  if  she  did 
not  wake  herself;  and  when  it  came,  she  seemed  to  be 
quite  ready  for  her  arduous  cares  till  its  next  return. 
~No  persuasion  ever  prevailed  on  her  to  rest  in  the 
hours  of  darkness.  She  watched  then.  How  I  won- 
dered at  her  silent  endurance,  and  admired  even  more 
than  I  wondered  !  But  Mrs.  Bromfield  was  a  healthy 
woman — healthy  in  all  senses.  Not  only  had  she  a 
well-developed,  substantial  body,  but  her  organism  was 
sound  throughout,  and  kept  so  by  faithful  study  of  and 
adherence  to  the  laws  of  health.  Without  thrusting 
her  opinions  or  practices  upon  others,  she  was  a  full 
believer  in  the  perfection  to  which  God  has  ordained 
humanity,  and  she  neglected  no  means  by  wrhich  it 
could  be  secured  to  herself  and  her  children.  Sickness 
had  never  pampered  and  nurtured  selfishness  in  her. 
She  met  life  at  all  points  with  sound  normal  sensibili- 
ties. Thus,  in  the  powers  that  flow  from  health  and 
perfect  equilibrium,  her  sufficiency  seemed,  with  all 
her  refinement  and  delicacy,  equal  to  that  of  the  firm- 
est man  among  us. 

Yet  I  sometimes  saw  those  strong  arms,  imper- 
ceptibly to  any  but  myself,  linger  near  her  in  some 
little  office  of  common  kindness,  as  if  they  would  so 
gladly  and  tenderly  infold  her  to  a  rest  commensurate 
with  her  exertions — a  triumphant  testimony  to  her 
withal  utter  womanhood.  Strong  in  mental  and  phy- 
sical life — individual,  fearless,  and  aspiring  to  nothing 
less  than  the  highest  ideal  that  Life,  History,  Poetry  or 
Art  could  offer  her,  she  was,  withal,  fully  and  truly  and 
sweetly  a  Woman.  I  forgave  all  her  superiority  for  her 
feminineness,  all  her  her  grace  and  elegance  for  her  no- 
bleness, all  her  power  for  her  tenderness. 

At  noon,  on  the  eighth  day,  Captain  Landon  com- 


80  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

municated  to  us  the  joyful  news  that  we  had  made  the 
latitude  of  the  island,  and  that  if  it  were  correctly  laid 
down  on  the  charts,  we  had  but  about  seventy  or 
eighty  miles  of  departure  to  run.  At  these  tidings,  a 
shout  of  joy  and  thankfulness  went  up  from  the  men, 
which  was  echoed  by  us  all.  And  we  had  deep  cause 
to  be  thankful.  Eight  days  in  an  open  boat  on  the 
broad  ocean — the  precious  jewel  of  life  contained  so  in 
an  egg-shell — tossed  by  no  rough  sea — assailed  by  no 
rude  wind — pelted  by  no  merciless  storm — only  the 
fierce  torrid  sunshine  in  the  cloudless  days  smiting  us 
too  steadily,  and  making  necessary  the  shade  of  our 
frail  shifting  awnings — truly  what  more  in  our  con- 
dition could  mercy  and  love  have  done  for  us  ? 


CHAPTEE   IX. 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  day  I  had  persuaded 
Mrs.  Bromfield  to  let  the  boys  go  forward  for  a 
time,  and  rest  herself  by  reclining,  on  a  pillow,  in  my 
lap. 

"  I  am  thinking,"  she  said,  after  a  long  silence  in 
this  position,  "  of  what  may  yet  be  before  us,  Miss 
Warren.  We  have  watched  and  prayed  for  a  sight 
and  touch  of  this  land,  but  what  then  ?  I  remember 
reading,  only  last  year,  a  narrative  of  a  party  of  men 
cast  away  on  a  small  group  of  uninhabited  islands, 
somewhere  in  these  seas,  who  did  not  escape  till 
the  twelfth  year  was  more  than  half  gone.  They  had 
implements  and  some  portions  of  their  wreck,  and 
with  these  they  built  themselves  habitations.  They 
planted  some  kernels  of  corn  and  wheat  which  they 
saved  from  the  vessel,  and  subsisted  upon  the  little 
they  could  raise  thus,  and  the  eggs  of  sea-fowls.  How 
long  could  we  bear  such  a  life,  dear  friend  ?" 

"  With  shelter  and  means  of  subsistence,"  I  replied, 
"  a  good  while,  I  think ;  but  whether  or  not  one 
could  be  grateful  for  such  an  existence,  prolonged 
beyond  hope  of  escape,  I  am  doubtful." 

"  I  could  be  grateful  for  any  existence,  Miss  War- 
ren," said  my  friend,  "  that  should  not  force  me  out 
of  sustaining  and  harmonious  relations  to  somewhat 
in  both  the  natural  and  moral  world,  that  might  suf- 
4* 


02  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

fice,  in  a  measure,  my  spiritual  needs.  I  have  often 
dreamed  of  an  Arcadia  in  some 

1  Summer  isle  of  Eden/ 

where,  with  one  soul  to  love  and  give  me  love  in  re- 
turn, and  a  few  others — half  a  dozen,  say — kings  and 
queens  to  reign  in  the  outside  circle  of  my  heart — pre- 
cious growing  friends — with  few  cares  and  no  slavish 
employments,  we  could  set  up  our  own  standards  of 
life,  and  feel  no  sneer  making  weight  against  our 
faithfulness  to  them.  True,  I  have  parted  with  those 
pleasing  dreams  years  since,  and  yet,  were  it  not  for 
my  children,  I  believe  I  could  even  now  find  in  myself 
the  courage  to  declare  this  an  adventure,  and  treat  it 
accordingly.  The  many-sidedness  of  life  has  wearied 
me  in  these  late  years,  and  I  seem  to  find  a  rest  in  the 
idea  of  escaping,  for  a  season,  the  eternal  revolutions 
by  which  its  night  and  day,  its  clouds  and  sunshine, 
its  glory  and  gloom,  pass  before  the  soul." 

"And  yet,  from  them,"  I  replied,  "the  soul  has 
its  growth." 

"  They  are,  rather,  the  rain  on  the  seed,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  well  that  it  fall  at  times ;  but  it  is  well,  also, 
that  it  be  withheld.  Periods  of  seclusion  and  rest  are 
as  necessary  to  growth,  I  believe,  as  those  of  active 
culture ;  and,  unmolested  by  the  presence  of  discord- 
ant spirits  or  the  pressure  of  physical  necessities, 
I  could  pass  a  year  or  two  here,  if  such  should  he 
our  fate,  with  no  very  bitter  repining.  I  can  teach 
my  boys,  if  the  Good  Father  will  spare  them  to  me ; 
and  I  am  so  grateful  for  you,  dear  Miss  Warren — so  very 
grateful  that  such  a  woman  is  the  companion  of  my  lot, 
that  I  can  afford  a  great  deal  of  lenity  to  Mrs.  Farley 
— though  she  does  seem  fearfully  diminished  since  those 
gowns  and  shawls  were  lost." 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  88 

Mrs.  Farley  lay  upon  the  opposite  seat,  fast  asleep. 
She  slept,  happily,  fourteen  or  sixteen  hours  every 
day.  The  other  eight  or  ten  were  divided  between  a 
moping  silence  and  weak,  querulous  complaining 
against  what  we  all  accepted  with  thanks  that  no  utter- 
ance could  express — the  weather,  our  progress,  our 
unimpaired  health,  and  our  comfortable  accommoda- 
tion in  all  respects  wherein  we  might  reasonably  have 
feared  and  even  expected  continual  suffering. 

"  When  our  house  is  built  here,"  continued  Mrs. 
Bromfield,  "  you  shall  have  the  corner  opposite  mine. 
I  suppose  our  couches  will  be  of  sand,  or,  at  least,  of 
grass  or  dried  sea- weed  ;  our  tables — pray  Heaven  there 
may  be  something  to  lay  on  them — will  be  the  lids  of 
trunks,  and  our  divans  and  chairs  great  stones  and 
fragments  of  rock  from  the  beach.  We  shall  have  to 
be  each  other's  mirrors " 

"  I  think  I  know  of  another  pair  of  eyes  that  would 
brighten  to  serve  you  in  that  capacity,"  I  interrupted. 

"  Truce  to  your  jesting  on  that  subject,  Miss  War- 
ren. The  thought  of  it,  while  it  appeals  to  my  selfish 
sense  of  security,  perplexes  me  deeply  at  times.  Be- 
cause, you  must  see,"  she  added,  speaking  even  lower 
than  we  had  been,  "  that  nothing  but  a  delicacy  that 
is  almost  fabulous  in  any  man  can  spare  me  many  and 
some  distressing  embarrassments  in  the  life  before  us." 

"Have  you  not,"  I  asked,  "every  indication  you 
could  desire  of  the  presence  of  that  delicacy  ?  I  have 
never  myself  seen  that  rare  and  beautiful  trait 
so  wholly  and  purely  manifested  as  it  is  here  ; 
and  I  am  weak  enough,"  I  added,  "  or  good  enough — 
which  is  it  ?  you,  perhaps,  would  say  the  first — to  be 
capable  of  worshiping  a  man  who  was  so  noble  as  to 
treat  me  thus." 


84  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

Her  pale  face  flushed  beneatli  my  earnest  gaze,  but 
I  would  go  on,  now  tliat  I  had  spoken  thus  much. 
u  There  is  not,"  I  said,  "  a  soul  here,  pent  up  as  we 
are  within  these  few  feet  of  space,  who  has  seen  the 
slightest  indication  that  could  wound  your  pride.  He 
does  not  approach  you  but  as  he  would  our  poor  little 
friend  over  there,  if  she  had  children  that  he  could  aid 
her  in  caring  for  ;  he  never  looks  at  you  with  a  glance 
of  love  ;  he  surrounds  you  with  an  invisible  care  that 
never  fails  or  tires  ;  and  when  thanked,  acknowledges 
the  expression  as  much  for  Ching,  or  Antonio,  or  Tom, 
as  for  himself.  And  if  you  do  not  love " 

Here  her  finger  was  placed  upon  my  lips  to  stop 
their  further  utterance. 

My  dear  friend,"  she  whispered,  "  no  service  could 
puchase  my  love.  My  gratitude,  my  warmest  friend- 
ship, my  utmost  capacity  to  confer  happiness  by  recip- 
rocal deeds,  it  would  secure ;  but  once  for  all,  a  man, 
without  an  act  of  kindness,  without  a  word  of  admira- 
tion for  me,  must  have,  in  his  own  being,  the  qualities 
that  would  irresistibly  take  that  before  he  could  have 
it.  I  cannot  give  my  love.  It  must  be  taken  by  a 
mandate  of  God,  issued  in  the  life  and  nature  of  him 
who  asks  it,  and  when  that  comes,  I  shall  not  resist  it." 

I  sighed,  and  tears  of  pure  compassion,  of  real  heart- 
fell  pain  for  one  whose  fearful  wretchedness  and  waste 
of  life  I  saw  possibly  foreshadowed  in  those  words, 
filled  my  eyes. 

"  They  are  for  him,  not  you,"  I  said,  as  she 
looked  up  when  one  dropped  upon  her  hand.  "  You 
are  hard  and  almost  hateful  to  me  in  uttering  such 
language.  I  think  it  is  wicked — such  an  exercise  of 
power,  which  must  have  been  given  for  good,  not  for 
pain — for  lifting  up,  and  not  destroying." 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  85 

"  I  would  not  pain  or  destroy,"  she  said,  raising 
herself  to  an  erect  position  on  the  seat  beside  me,  "  the 
poorest  and  scantiest  soul  among  that  swarthy  company 
before  us.  God  forbid  you  should  think  me  capable, 
for  a  moment,  of  anything  but  intense  pain  myself,  in 
any  such  thought.  But,  Miss  Warren,  I  know,  or, 
rather,  I  believe,  that  life  must,  somewhere  or  some- 
how, furnish  for  every  true  demand  of  our  nature  a 
true  object.  And  I  cannot  consent  to  compromise  for 
any  but  that  in  a  matter  so  sacred.  But  let  us  speak 
no  more  of  it.  It  was  weak  in  me  to  permit  the  sub- 
ject to  go  so  far ;  but  do  not  think  ill  of  me,  clear,  for 
what  I  have  said.  I  have  but  expressed  my  convic- 
tions and  feelings;  I  am  no  worse  than  I  was 
when  they  were  unexpressed  —  and  not  at  all  hard- 
hearted, as  I  see  you  are  more  than  half  inclined  to 
think  me." 

I  was  sad,  nevertheless,  with  a  feeling  I  could  not 
shake  off,  and  which  I  pondered  deeply  in  the  wakeful 
hours  of  that  night — she  sitting  there,  with  her  boys 
sleeping  on  each  side  of  her,  and  occasionally  taking 
the  two  or  three  steps  which  the  space  between  our 
trunks  and  seats  permitted.  At  dark  the  rowers 
rested,  the  breeze  being  fresh  enough  to  carry  us  for- 
ward, and  at  ten  o'clock  Captain  Landon  said,  that,  if 
all  went  as  well  as  it  had  with  us,  we  should  reach»the 
island  by  three  or  four  the  next  afternoon.  And  then 
Col.  Anderson  surprised  us  with  the  extraordinary  and 
interesting  fact  that  he  had  had  an  acquaintance  and 
many  conversations  with  a  man  who  had  been  cast 
away  on  it,  about  four  years  before.  He  was  a  Scotch- 
man— a  ship-carpenter — and  their  vessel  had  struck  in 
the  night  on  a  coral  reef,  that  surrounds  the  island. 
He  had  told  him  of  its  resources  in  water,  fruit,  and 


86  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

game ;  the  latter  very  scanty  on  land,  but  the  fishing 
good.  The  vegetable  productions,  cocoanut,  palm  and 
banana  trees  were  plentiful  in  some  parts  ;  also  the 
bread-fruit  and  various  esculents. 

This  account  of  our  destination  and  future  home 
absorbed  us  far  into  the  evening.  "  Why,"  I  asked, 
"  had  we  not  heard  it  before  ?" 

"Because,  ladies,"  replied  Col.  Anderson,  "I  saw 
you  were  getting  on  so  well  with  our  troubles,  that  I 
reserved  it  from  day  to  day,  fearing  a  dark  one  might 
come,  when  it  would  help  your  failing  courage  to 
hear  it." 

"  How  long  had  these  persons  to  stay,  Col.  Ander- 
son ?"  asked  Mrs.  Bromfield. 

"  They  were  fortunate  enough  to  signal  a  ship  in 
about  four  weeks,"  he  replied ;  "  and  now  that  the 
commerce  is  so  greatly  increased  upon  these  waters, 
I  feel  very  little  apprehension  of  our  having  a  pro- 
tracted imprisonment  before  us." 

"  ISfo,  said  Capt.  Landon ;  "  if  there  is  a  liight 
where  we  can  keep  a  look-out  and  a  signal,  I  think  we 
shall  not  fail  to  secure  relief  in  a  few  weeks.  I  also 
have  a  hope  that  some  of  our  boats  may  fall  in  with  a 
vessel,  and  as  they  were  all  bound  hither,  it  is  possible 
that  we  may  escape  in  a  few  days.  At  any  rate,"  he 
added,  after  a  moment,  "  we  have,  thank  God,  all  that 
is  necessary  to  enable  us  to  support  life  without  desti- 
tution or  pain.  We  must  be  very  careful  of  health,  and 
preserve  as  much  cheerfulness  as  possible,  and  I  hope 
we  shall  all  yet  live  to  see  the  faces  of  old  friends  and 
homes  again." 

I  saw  Mrs.  Bromfield  move  tenderly  over  Harry  at 
the  mention  of  health  and  cheerfulness.  It  was  plain 
to  me  that  she  had  not  shaken  off  the  alarm  she  had 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  87 

felt  about  her  before  leaving  the  ship,  although  lie 
had  been  well  since — only  a  little  graver  and  more 
thoughtful  than  was  his  wont,  as  he  would  naturally 
be  in  our  circumstances. 

As  for  Phil,  he  had  many  times  protested  against 
"  doein'  ashore  so  long,"  and  almost  scolded  the  Cap- 
tain for  not  bringing  us  in  the  ship — which  his  mother 
had  prevented  his  seeing  the  loss  of— and  repeatedly 
asked  the  "  Turnel "  what  he  did  "  doe  and  bring 
mamma  and  Miss  Warren,  and  me  and  Harry,  in  'iss 
bad  little  boat,  such  a  long  way,  for?"  Phil  never 
understood  but  it  was  the  legitimate  going  ashore,  but 
he  disliked  the  inconvenience  greatly,  and  declared,  as 
the  time  went  on  and  he  grew  more  weary  of  the  con- 
finement, that,  when  he  was  a  man,  and  had  a  big 
ship,  and  genelinans  and  ladies  in  it,  he'd  bring  it  right 
up  to  the  land,  he  would."  But  whenever  he  showed 
signs  of  taking  seriously  to  fretting,  his  mother  led  off 
his  imagination  and  thoughts  to  the  moon,  or  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea,  or  to  fairy-land,  or  up  among  the  stars, 
where  she  created  such  beautiful  worlds  to  his  mind, 
that  he  was  effectually  cheated,  for  the  time,  out  of  all 
complaints  against  this  one. 


CHAPTER    X. 

"  Is  that  land,  Anderson  ?"  asked  the  Captain, 
about  two  o'clock  next  day,  after  he  had  been  sweep- 
ing the  western  horizon  carefully  with  his  glass.  Tell 
me  how  it  looks  to  you.  It  is  very  low,  if  it  is." 

"  I  should  say  it  was  land,  beyond  a  doubt,"  re- 
plied the  Colonel,  after  a  diligent  survey.  "  It  cannot 
be  vapor,  I  think,  hanging  so  low  and  remaining 
so  fixed." 

We  were  now  all  excitement ;  every  eye  was 
strained — Phil's  among  the  rest,  held  high  up  in  the 
"  Turnel's  "  arms — an  effort  which  he  rewarded  with 
a  kiss,  and  a  grave  assent  to  the  previously  expressed 
opinion  of  his  elder  friend  :  "  Yes,  'at's  land." 

In  an  hour  or  two  there  was  plainly  visible  to  the 
naked  eye  the  long,  low,  blue  outline,  very  little  broken 
to  the  southward  by  slight  elevations,  and  looking  so 
pure,  peaceful,  and  ethereal,  hanging  between  the  sky 
and  ocean,  that  to  us  it  seemed  as  if  it  might  be  the 
Arcadia  we  had  talked  of. 

Mrs.  Farley  roused  herself,  and  faithful  to  the  ruling 
passion,  began  at  once  to  adjust,  pick,  arrange,  and 
smooth  her  apparel,  and  as  she  saw  the  pleasant-looking 
earth,  she  groaned  in  recollection  of  all  she  had  lost, 
that  would  so  have  glorified  her  there.  She  moved 
across  to  my  side,  and  said  : 

"  Isn't  it  a  pity,  now,  Miss  Warren,  we  have  got 
here  so  easily,  that  we  didn't  bring  more  with  us  ? 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  89 

We  could  just  as  well  as  not  have  had  a  trunk  for 
each  of  us." 

"  It  would  not  have  been  safe  to  load  the  boat 
more  deeply,"  I  replied ;  "  and  if  we  had  met  rough 
weather,  we  should  each  have  been  obliged,  perhaps, 
to  throw  over  a  part  of  what  we  had.  Let  us  be 
thankful,  Mrs.  Farley,  to  have  escaped  so  terrible  an 
accident  so  well,  instead  of  mourning  that  it  was  not 
better." 

"  But  I  shall  never  get  so  many  clothes  again,"  she 
said,  piteously  ;  "  and  my  niece  and  sister  will  be  so 
sorry,  for  we  could  all  wear  the  same  dresses." 

"  If  your  niece  and  sister,"  I  said,  "  are  not  glad 
to  see  you  safe,  after  such  danger,  without  pining  for 
so  paltry  a  loss,  your  pains  and  perils  will  indeed  be 
poorly  repaid." 

I  never  could  command  my  patience  with  the  poor 
soul.  Often  and  often  I  had  commenced  speaking 
to  her  with  the  firmest  and  kindest  intention  not  to  be 
provoked  to  asperity,  or  indulge  any  disposition  to  re- 
prove her  follies  ;  but  she  would  hunt  me  to  the  end 
of  my  forbearance,  and  then  came  the  ungracious  or 
rebuking  word  that  drove  her  back  into  her  little  shell 
again  :  and  so  we  went  on. 

Twilight  fell  softly  down  in  gray  repose  upon  the 
darkening  waters  ;  and  right  over  in  front  of  us  there 
hung  the  silver  rounding  moon.  It  made  our  hearts 
glad,  for  the  surf  was  heard  throbbing  on  the  shore  of 
the  island,  and  very  soon  we  should  be  near  enough 
to  be  in  danger  from  the  reef. 

Antonio  now  took  rank  among  us.  He  was  a 
Madeira  Islander,  and  for  aught  I  know,  might  have 
been  born  and  nursed  in  the  water.  At  all  events,  he 
was  as  nearly  amphibious  as  anything  human  could  be, 


90  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

and  he  explored  the  reef,  as  we  approached  it,  in  the 
most  ludicrous  manner — dropping  overboard  every  few 
minutes  with  the  nonchalance  of  an  experienced  New- 
foundland dog,  and  presently  coming  in,  in  some  incon- 
ceivable way,  over  the  bow,  and  sitting  perched  there, 
dripping,  till  he  saw  occasion  for  another  plunge. 

Col.  Anderson's  informant  had  told  him  that  there 
was  a  broad  gate  through  the  coral  wall,  on  the  north- 
east point,  and  this  we  were  searching  for  till  the  moon 
had  set.  The  greatest  caution  was  used  to  preserve  the 
boat  from  injury,  for  we  all  felt  how  invaluable  it  might 
be  to  us,  even  after  we  got  safely  to  shore.  At  last 
Antonio  sent  us  a  glad  shout  from  the  midst  of  the 
darkness  ahead.  His  ordinary  speech  was  a  mixture 
of  French,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  and  English;  and 
now  we  heard  him  roaring  forth :  "  Ici !  ici !  Madre  de 
Dios !  Gracias !  Tank  God  !" 

He  came  on  board  with  these  exclamations,  and 
very  shortly  after  we  were  sensible  of  approaching  the 
surf  rapidly.  As  we  drew  near,  over  went  our  pilot 
again,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  astonished  air  was 
rent  with  a  thunder-peal  of  gladness,  as  our  prow  shot 
swiftly  and  smoothly  up  on  a  fair  sand-beach. 

What  a  bustle !  almost  as  great  as  if  we  had  really, 
as  Phil  thought,  reached  the  right  land.  But  his  keen 
observation  could  no  longer  be  cheated.  In  all  the 
hurry  and  excitement,  I  heard  him  say  to  his  mother, 
(who  held  the  children  both  firmly  to  her  till  the  word 
came  for  us  to  go  ashore) :  "  Mamma,  is  'iss  'e  other 
land  ?  I  don't  see  any  cannles,  mamma." 

And  then,  mamma  remaining  attentive  to  other 
things,  he  appealed  to  Harry,  who  replied,  in  a  tone 
of  grave  condescension  :  "  No,  this  isn't  the  other  land ; 
this  is  an  island." 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  91 

Antonio  reported  that  it  was  high  tide,  though  I 
was  unable  to  discover  how  he  could  tell  that,  in  the 
darkness,  till  next  day,  when  I  saw  the  long  wet  beach 
at  low  water,  and  the  waves  coming  up  to  the  dry  sand 
when  the  tide  was  in.  The  boat  was  run  up  so  that 
we  could  almost  step  ashore  from  her  bows,  whence 
the  children  and  Mrs.  Farley  were  carried  by  the  men, 
while  Col.  Anderson  and  the  Captain  assisted  Mrs. 
Bromfield  and  myself  to  alight,  by  a  great  leap,  in 
about  three  inches  of  water. 

Oh,  what  inexpressible  joy  to  have  the  land  beneath 
our  feet  again !  When  we  had  felt  it  so,  and  heard 
the  children,  and  stood  up  together,  Mrs.  Bromfield 
threw  her  arms  about  my  neck  and  wept.  "  Dear  Miss 
Warren,  how  good  is  our  Lord  God,  to  spare  us  all 
and  furnish  this  resting-place  in  the  midst  of  the  shift- 
ing, treacherous  sea !  Is  it  not  the  peace  of  heaven, 
after  the  uncertainty  of  these  dreadful  days  ? — to  have 
the  dear  children  secure  here,  where  the  awful  waters 
cannot  devour  them — to  know  that  we  are  all  gathered 
safely  out  of  that  frail  shell !" 

I  felt,  from  the  intensity  of  her  expression,  that  she 
must  have  suffered  far  more  than  I  had  supposed, 
and  I  had  a  little  quiet  satisfaction  in  making  as  near 
an  approach  to  encouragement  as  I  suppose  the  most 
courageous  would  have  dared  to  offer  her. 

I  returned  her  embrace  cordially,  as  I  was  wholly 
moved  to,  and  said  :  "  Yes,  dear  friend,  it  is  joyful  to 
clasp  each  other  in  hope  again,  instead  of  fear  and  ter- 
ror ;  but  we  will  not  now  think  either  upon  the  past 
or  present,  except,  if  possible,  to  find  a  place  of  rest 
for  ourselves — especially  for  you  and  the  boys.  I  fear 
we  shall  have  you  on  our  hands  soon,  unless  you  take 
to  sleeping  more  than  yon  have  since  we  left  the  ship." 


92  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

I  took  her  matters  in  some  measure  into  my  own 
charge,  and  she  suffered  me,  without  remonstrance. 
Col.  Anderson,  who,  as  he  said,  had  nothing  to  look 
after,  unless  we  kindly  suffered  him  to  adopt  us,  had 
our  trunks  and  other  chattels  on  the  beach  when  I 
stepped  down ;  and  as  no  choice  could  be  made  of  po- 
sition that  night,  he  proposed  to  spread  a  sail  upon  the 
smoothest  bit  of  sand  he  could  feel  out,  and  let  us  get 
to  rest  at  once.  "For  you  know,  Miss  Warren,"  he 
said,  "  that  she  cannot  go  on  so  without  utterly  break- 
ing down  soon." 

Ching  and  Antonio  presented  themselves,  by  the 
Captain's  order,  to  await  our  commands.  A  light  had 
been  struck  by  means  of  a  flint,  but  was  immediately 
extinguished  again,  so  that  we  only  caught  a  flash  of  it ; 
but  our  preparations  went  forward  in  the  dark,  and 
very  shortly  our  five  weary  bodies  were  stretched  upon 
the  dear  old  earth,  for  a  rest  we  had  not  known  in  ten 
long  days.  Phil  and  Harry  seemed  scarcely  able  to 
enjoy  enough  the  intense  luxury  of  spreading  their 
young  limbs.  "  Oh,  mamma,"  said  Phil,  "  I  do  'ike 
to  sleep  here — it's  so  better — it's  so  nice — isn't  it  ?" 

The  noise  subsided  about  us,  or  we  soon  became 
insensible  to  it,  for  it  seemed  to  me,  when  I  woke  in 
the  early  twilight  of  the  morning,  to  have  been  but  a 
few  minutes  since  I  went  to  sleep. 

That  day  was  spent  in  preparations  for  our  tempo- 
rary home,  which  was  at  first  an  open  tent,  or,  rather, 
awning,  to  shelter  us  from  the  sun,  but  which  grew  be- 
fore night  into  an  inclosed  space,  where,  for  the  first 
time  since  leaving  the  Tempest,  we  enjoyed  the  luxury 
of  a  dressing  apartment.  We  renovated  thoroughly, 
to  our  great  satisfaction  and  comfort ;  and,  as  Mrs. 
Bromfield,  having  first  carried  Harry  and  Philip 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  93 

through  a  course  of  sea-water  and  towels,  was  stepping 
outside,  Antonio  and  Ching  presented  themselves,  and 
made  known,  in  their  respective  styles,  their  desire  to 
serve  us  in  the  capacity  of  laundresses. 

"  Me  washy,"  said  Ching,  u  ver'  good — ver'  much." 
"Yo  lava,"  said  Antonio,"   what  you  call  vash, 
Madame,  Signorita." 

We  were  more  than  thankful  for  the  service  thus 
offered,  and  Mrs.  Bromfield  did  not  spare  expressions 
of  our  gratitude ;  for  nothing,  beside  sufficient  food  and 
drink,  could  so  much  conduce  to  our  comfort  here  as 
plentiful  supplies  of  fresh  clothing. 


CHAPTEE    XI. 

Our  meals  were  taken  in  the  tent — Capt.  Landon 
and  Col.  Anderson  joining  us — at  a  rude  table  made 
from  some  bits  of  loose  board  and  the  seats  of  our  boat. 
We  had  but  two  plates,  but  the  great  avaloni  arid 
mother-of-pearl  shells  were  more  beautiful  and  nearly 
as  convenient.  There  were  no  trees  near,  and  only  an 
inconsiderable  elevation,  a  little  to  the  north-east  of  us, 
where,  early  on  the  first  morning,  a  staff  of  the  tallest 
spars,  spliced  together,  had  been  raised,  and  a  signal 
hoisted.  On  a  little  green  spot  beyond  this  a  well  had 
been  commenced  on  the  same  day,  but  though  dili- 
gently dug  arid  carried  down  several  feet,  there  was  no 
sign  of  water  on  the  third.  This  gave  us  our  first  real 
anxiety.  Water  would  be  our  first  want  if  we  contin- 
ued to  be  alone ;  and  then,  if  the  other  boats'  crews 
should  arrive  without  any — as  must  happen  if  they 
were  out  many  days  longer  than  we  had  been — no 
imagination  could  exaggerate  the  suffering  before  us. 
Already  we  were  sparing,  and  expeditions  were  daily 
made  to  other  parts  of  the  island  for  water  and  fruits. 
Bananas  were  brought  us  in  plenty,  but  though  very 
agreeable  and  refreshing,  and  well  used  to  take  the 
place  of  food,  they  seemed  rather  to  increase  than  allay 
thirst,  especially  with  the  children. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  Ching  came  with 
the  pail  and  the  Captain's  compliments,  "  And  he  no 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  95 

could  more  givee — one  pint,  one  lady — two  pint,  two 
boy !" 

How  poor  Mrs.  Bromfield's  heart  sunk  at  these 
words !  "  Oh,  my  poor  children !"  she  exclaimed, 
"  what  is  to  become  of  you,  if  we  find  no  water  ?" 

And  the  sky  looked  as  if  it  would  never  rain  again. 
Col.  Anderson  had  been  out  all  the  day  before  in 
search,  and  was  going  again  this  morning ;  but  he 
presently  approached  the  tent,  and  addressing  my 
friend,  said  :  "  I  am  just  setting  out  for  the  other  side 
of  the  island,  Mrs.  Brornfield,  and  as  we  have  been 
prudently  put  on  allowance  of  water  to-day,  and  I 
know  my  little  friends  will  be  most  inconvenienced  by 
this  arrangement,  I  came  to  say  that  four  of  the  men 
desired  me,  this  morning,  to  tell  you  that  they  would 
divide  their  rations  with  them.  If  you  will  send  Ching 
down  to  the  tent,  he  will  be  able  to  get  it  any  time." 

Tears  of  gratitude,  and  deep,  deep  emotion,  were 
falling  from  her  eyes  before  he  had  done  speaking.  "  I 
cannot  now,"  she  replied,  "  express  to  you,  Col.  An- 
derson, or  to  these  excellent  and  noble  men,  the  grati- 
tude I  feel  for  all  your  constant  and  thoughtful  kind- 
ness. I  should  be  grateful  for  any  act  that  would 
mitigate  my  own  sufferings,  were  I  alone  ;  but  all  that 
is  done  to  take  away  the  horror  and  wretchedness  my 
children  might  have  to  endure,  entitles  the  doers  to  a 
reverential  aifection  from  me." 

She  had  taken  his  hand  in  speaking,  and  she 
pressed  it  convulsively  between  her  own  before  letting 
it  go. 

"  We  are  but  doing,"  he  said,  "  what  a  common 
sentiment  of  human  tenderness  prompts  all  good  per- 
sons to  do.  I  pray  you  not  to  cherish  a  sense  of  pecu- 
liar obligation  to  any  of  us.  There  is  not  a  man  in  a 


90  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

hundred,  I  suppose,  of  all  who  fill  the  world,  but 
would,  in  like  circumstances,  do  the  same.  I  hope  to 
be  more  successful  to-day  than  we  have  been,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  The  man  who  told  me  of  this  island,  said 
they  had  sunk  a  well  which  supplied  them,  scantily  in- 
deed, but  so  reliably  that  they  did  not  suffer ;  and  they 
were  more  in  number  than  we  are  at  present.  So  that 
I  do  not  at  all  despair  of  success,  but  it  may  be  some 
days  yet  before  we  discover  this  treasure." 

"  Meantime,"  she  said,  "  you  are  daily  fatiguing 
yourself — perhaps  exposing  your  health  and  life — by 
walking  under  this  burning  sun  all  the  day.  I  fear 
you  are  risking  what  we  can  ill  afford  to  lose,  my  dear 
sir." 

"I  am,  fortunately,  much  used  to  torrid  climes," 
he  replied  ;  "  my  Indian  service  is  but  three  years 
over,  and  I  was  in  Algeria  a  little  more  than  a  year 
ago.  There  is  no  danger  of  me,  ma'am.  If  my 
friends  had  the  same  security  against  suffering  that  I 
have,  in  iron  health  and  a  toughened  constitution,  I 
should  feel  much  less  anxious  than  I  do.  But  I  must 
bid  you  good  morning,"  he  said,  clasping  her  offered 
hand  ;  "  I  hope  to  bring  you  good  news  to-day." 

Mrs.  Bromfield  sighed  as  he  walked  away,  and, 
without  a  word,  turned  back  to  where  her  children 
were  awaiting  the  completion  of  a  story  which  his 
coming  had  interrupted. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Harry,  when  it  was  over,  "  can  I 
go  up  to  the  signal  with  Antonio  ?  He  is  going  to 
look  out  by-and-by,  and  it's  cool  up  there,  he  says." 

"  I  am  afraid,  my  darling,  that  the  sun  will  be  too 
hot  for  you." 

"  No,  mamma  ;  Antonio  will  carry  your  umbrella, 
if  you  will  let  him — will  you  ?" 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  97 

"  Certainly,  dear  Harry,  if  you  go  ;  but  I  must  ask 
Captain  Landon  what  he  thinks  of  it,  first." 

She  seemed  to  have  partly  recovered  from  her 
anxiety  about  Harry,  and  when  the  sun  was  low  in  the 
morning  or  evening,  often  let  him  run  freely  about 
the  beach  and  the  ground  where  the  stores  were  laid, 
wishing  him  to  have  as  natural  a  freedom  as  his  safety 
would  allow,  the  more  surely  to  throw  off  the  serious 
gravity  that  had  settled  upon  him  since  the  night  of 
the  wreck.  She  took  him  now  by  the  hand  and  went 
down  to  the  tent  where  Captain  Landon  was  standing, 
and  when  they  came  back,  Harry  was  fitted  out  with 
the  umbrella  and  a  cambric  handkerchief  folded  in 
the  crown  of  his  Panama  hat,  to  keep  out  the  sun's 
rays.  Antonio  was  to  stay  two  hours,  and  all  the 
injunctions  were  carefully  laid  on  both ;  yet  his  mo- 
ther's face  was  very  sad  and  anxious  as  she  let  him  go 
from  her  arms.  She  stood  looking  after  him  and  re- 
turning his  little  salutations  from  beneath  the  umbrella 
so  long,  that  I  said : 

"  You  must  be  much  less  than  your  usual  self,  my 
dear  friend,  to  feel  such  an  anxiety  for  Harry,  when 
he  seems  to  be  so  well  and  cheerful." 

"  I  am  never  happy  or  at  ease  when  he  is  out  of  my 
sight,  Miss  Warren,"  she  replied.  "  I  cannot  be,  since 
that  night ;  and  I  have  impressions,  at  times,  of  some 
fate  impending  over  him,  which  startle  and  pain  me 
inexpressibly.  But  I  wish  not  to  have  him  feel  this, 
as  a  cloud  over  his  spirits,  and  therefore  I  have  given 
him  some  liberties,  which  I  might,  perhaps,  have  more 
wisely  withheld.  You  do  not  think  there  is  any  risk 
in  this  little  walk,  do  you  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,  I  should  say.     Antonio  is  so  fond 
of  him,  and  so  faithful  and  trusty,  that  I  should  think 
5 


98  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

you  might  set  yourself  at  rest  about  him  ;  and  if  you 
would  lie  down  with  little  Phil" — who  had  quietly 
turned  over  on  the  sail-cloth  and  gone  to  sleep — "you 
would,  I  think,  be  acting  wisely.  You  know,  dear,  we 
were  to  be  mirrors  for  each  other,  and  now  I  must 
reflect  your  face  to  you,  thinner  and  paler  by  many 
shades  than  I  ever  saw  it  before.  You  will  wear  out 
insensibly  under  these  anxieties  and  dreads,  and  though 
you  may  rely  on  your  strength  and  endurance  with 
good  reason,  yet  you  know  not  how  much  more  they 
may  be  needed  by-and-by." 

"While  I  read  this  homily,  she  came  and  sat  down 
on  the  trunk  beside  me. 

"  Do  not  talk  of  resting  now,"  she  said ;  at  least 
not  of  sleeping.  I  can  rest  better  here  with  you, 
dear." 

And  we  went  straight  forward  into  a  world  of  clear, 
sweet  talk,  sitting  there  by  ourselves  on  that  quiet 
morning — for  Mrs.  Farley  had  gone  to  her  sail-cloth, 
otherwise  her  couch,  and  was  also  fast  asleep. 

At  length  Mrs.  Bromfield  said :  "  I  have  always 
had  a  feeling  that  I  could  not  lose  one  of  my  children, 
and  live.  They  are  so  closely  related  to  my  life,  and 
it  is  so  shorn  of  other  sweets  beside  them,  that,  since 
my  alarm  about  Harry,  and  our  peril,  I  really  do  not 
know  an  hour's  peace.  I  am  conscious  of  losing,  as 
you  say,  flesh,  and  strength  of  all  kinds.  That,  in- 
deed, would  be  natural  to  our  position  ;  but  I  confess 
I  feel  sorely  burdened  with  a  shadowy  fear,  apart 
from  the  possible  or  probable  sufferings  of  our  lot  here. 
Oh!  a  woman's  heart  has  its  strength  in  love,  and 
when  the  love  is  taken  away,  alas  for  her  who  is 
deprived  of  it !  All  that  life,  at  its  worst,  can  do,  may 
be  borne  with  it ;  without  it,  great  God,  what  deserts 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  99 

filled  with  horrors  stretch  around — -endless  everywhere 
but  in  that  distant,  narrow  point,  where  the  gateway 
of  the  future  life  opens." 

"  But  there,"  I  said,  "  springs  the  bow  of  Hope, 
that  never  fades  to  the  eye  of  Faith." 

"  Yes,  there  it  is,"  she  replied ;  "  but  the  most 
favored  and  exalted  of  us  do  not  see  it  at  all  times,  and 
the  hours  of  its  obscuration  are  heavy  and  dark  with 
life's  blackest  shadows.  Then,  too,  we  know  only  the 
affections  of  this  life.  We  know  only  the  sweet  love 
that  blesses  us  here.  It  is  reasoning,  trusting,  and 
hoping  for  that  which  shall  come  to  us  there.  Even 
I,  dear  friend,  with  a  light  that  you  do  not  yet  accept, 
have  sometimes  but  dim  outlooks  into  that  great  future, 
where  our  all  lies  after  a  few  glancing  years  shall  have 
swept  by.  Did  you  ever  meet  these  lines  of  an  old 
poet  ?  I  know  not  who  he  was  that  wrote  them,  but 
listen  to  their  wondrous  beauty  and  crystal  clearness : 

" « Dear,  beauteous  Death — thou  jewel  of  the  just, 

Shining  nowhere  but  in  the  dark ! 
What  mysteries  do  lie  beyond  thy  dust, 
Could  we  outlook  that  mark.' " 

How  the  slow-spoken  words  thrilled  me,  and  the 
spiritual  glow  of  her  dark  eye,  as  she  uttered  them — 
seeming  to  outlook  all  marks  and  penetrate  the  depths 
of  the  Infinite  Beyond  ! 

"  Surely,"  I  said,  "  your  vision  is  seldom  darkened 
in  that  direction.  You  have  little  to  complain  of,  I 
think." 

"  I  oftener  lose  my  beacon  than  you  imagine,  dear 
friend,"  she  replied.  "  A  mist  seems  to  heave  up  be- 
fore me,  and  bury  the  known  and  the  true  in  its  blind- 
ing shrouds.  Granted  that  we  have  more  light  than 


100  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

any  age  has  ever  before  enjoyed,  we  have  also  a  larger 
need  wherein  to  absorb  it.  Granted  that  Science  and 
Religion  have  both  unfolded  to  us  truths  and  hopes 
which  were  never  before  the  property  of  the  soul — 
its  appetites  and  powers  have  grown  with  the  receiv- 
ing, and  we  can  never  again  rest  where  we  have.  The 
ages  before  us  have  given  birth  to  creeds  and  systems 
to  which  Truth  was  subordinated ;  it  seems  to  me  the 
grand  privilege  of  ours  to  lift  the  divine  light  above 
dogmatism,  and  inaugurate  it  in  the  heart  of  man." 

"  You  believe,  then,  that,  amid  all  the  contention 
and  strife  of  this  age,  there  is  a  greater  influx  of  truth 
than  ever  before  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Not  relatively  greater,  perhaps,  than  ever  before. 
There  have  been  periods  in  the  world's  history  as  re- 
markable as  this  ;  but  they  were  so  by  comparison  with 
what  preceded  them.  Transition  periods  are  always 
so  marked,  but  no  previous  one  has  led  from  so  high 
a  plane  to  so  high  a  one  as  those  which  are  beneath  and 
above  us  to-day." 

"  Truly  there  is  war  enough,"  I  replied ;  "  but  it 
seems  to  me  that  we  are  following  ignesfatui,  rather 
than  true  light,  in  the  way  some  of  us  are  going." 

"  Never  believe  it  for  a  moment,  my  dear  friend," 
she  replied.  "  The  new  parties  in  the  religious  world 
comprise  many,  very  many  of  the  most  developed  men 
and  women,  whose  inmost  lives  are  hungering  for  some 
high,  clear  religious  truth.  The  soul  has  outgrown  its 
creeds,  and  more  than  half  who  remain  within  the 
churches,  even,  already  doubt  their  sufficiency  for  our 
further  development.  Look,  Miss  Warren,  at  the 
daring  and  constant  challenge  under  which  the  theo- 
logical dogmas  lie,  not  from  infidels  alone,  or  persons 
who  can  be  denounced  as  such,  but  from  religious, 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  101 

earnest,  thoughtful,  striving,  loving  men  and  women, 
who  desire  God,  and  cultivate  his  likeness  in  their 
souls ;  who  do  not  feel  themselves  irreligious  because 
the  Church  denies  them  its  countenance ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  feel  and  know  that  there  is  a  broad  and  deep 
religious  current  in  their  natures,  which  is  none  the 
less  pure  for  not  flowing  in  prescribed  channels." 

"  But  all  this  seems  vague  and  indefinite  to  me,"  I 
said ;  "  too  much  so  to  afford  any  substantial  rest  to 
the  spirit  in  its  days  of  trial.  One  craves  something 
clearer  and  more  positive." 

"  No,  no,"  she  answered,  in  quick  expostulation  ; 
"  do  not  say  that  you  desire  to  be  told  how  to  be  reli- 
gious. Do  not  tell  me  you  would  rather  repose  upon 
a  creed  than  upon  the  infinite  God  and  his  eternal 
laws.  I  cannot  doubt  that  his  truth  and  love  are  suf- 
ficient for  the  soul  in  its  darkest  hours.  They  are  only 
clouded  to  me  when  thinking,  as  we  were  just  now,  of 
the  loss  of  the  love  which  is  ours  here.  What  efful- 
gence of  glory,  what  greatness,  what  power,  what 
duration  of  existence,  or  wealth  in  any  sort  that  it 
could  bring  us,  would  compensate  this  loss  ?" 

I  had  no  word  of  reply  to  these  thoughts,  and  when 
next  she  spoke,  she  said :  "  Do  you  know,  dear  Miss 
Warren,  that  Harry's  condition  on  that  dreadful  night 
was  like  the  instances  of  second-sight  we  used  to  hear 
of,  and  which  are  now  talked  of  as  spiritual  impres- 
sions? He  has  had  a  similar  experience  one  night 
since,  with  less  noticeable  results ;  but  I  cannot  free 
my  mind  of  a  deep  and  painful  anxiety  for  him." 

"  His  condition,  in  my  opinion,  Mrs.  Bromfield," 
said  I,  in  my  weightiest  tone,  "  arose  from  some  de- 
rangement of  his  system.  The  child  has  a  sensitive 
and  delicate  organization,  and  he  had,  perhaps,  eaten 


102  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

something    that    his    disturbed    stomach    refused    to 
assimilate." 

"  That  would  do  for  you  to  say  and  believe,  Miss 
Warren,  but  not  for  me.  You  see  only  the  outward 
facts  in  the  case,  while  to  me  his  inmost  spiritual  con- 
dition is  revealed,  in  some  manner  that  I  cannot  de- 
scribe, but  which  I  feel  perfectly,  and  which  you  could 
better  appreciate  were  any  life  so  related  to  your  own. 
Pardon  me,  dear,  kind  friend,"  she  said,  drawing  me 
toward  her,  and  kissing  my  cheek ;  "I  spoke  more 
abruptly  than  I  ought ;  for,  under  all  your  outward 
tranquillity,  I  found,  long  ago,  a  woman's  quick  heart 
beating." 

She  did  not  speak  again  till  I  raised  my  head  from 
her  shoulder,  and  said,  "  Tell  me,  now,  the  rest." 

"  I  was  saying,"  she  resumed,  "  that  I  could  feel 
in  Harry  a  different  cause  for  these  experiences,  from 
any  mere  bodily  one.  He  has,  normally,  but  a  very 
imperfect  recollection  of  his  father " — she  seemed  to 
speak  with  great  difficulty  and  effort,  but  went  on, 
slowly — "  and  yet  he  has  twice,  since  we  have  been  on 
this  island,  described  him  to  me,  as  accurately  as  if  he 
had  seen  him  yesterday — more  vividly,  indeed,  than 
children  of  his  years  ever  describe  those  they  live  with 
daily.  It  is  not  this  alone,  however,  that  impresses 
me,  wonderful  as  it  seems ;  but  I  have,  in  my  own 
being,  a  clear  perception — not  intellectual — that  it  is  a 
reality  to  the  child.  When  he  speaks,  I  see  not  what 
he  sees,  but  him  seeing  it.  I  do  not  make  myself 
clear  to  you,  Miss  Warren,  I  suppose  ;  but  I  have  pon- 
dered these  things  much,  and  it  was  an  imperative 
necessity  to  speak  of  them." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  which  she  broke  by  say- 
ing, tenderly :  "Did  I  open  a  wound  in  your  heart, 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  103 

dear  friend,  by  referring  to  the  richness  of  my  own 
relations  in  life?  Believe  me,  you  have  the  truest 
pit.y  I  can  feel.  If  the  angels  ever  weep  tears  of  blood 
over  our  mortal  sphere,  they  must  fall,  I  think,  for  the 
woman  to  whom  maternity  is  denied.  If  I  hurt  you, 
dear  heart,  forgive  me.  I  was  too  selfishly  absorbed 
at  the  moment  of  speaking  those  words,  to  consider,  as 
I  ought  to  have  done,  that  yours  is  the  irreparable  lot. 
I  could  better  afford  to  lose  all  now,  if  so  terrible  a  fate 
could  be  sent  me,  than  never  to  have  known  the  light 
and  sweetness  of  the  last  seven  years.  Brighter  heavens 
and  fairer  earth  since  that  day  of  motherhood  dawned  ; 
larger  God  and  nobler  humanity." 

She  stopped  speaking,  and  held  my  head  upon  her 
shoulder,  pressing  her  pale,  softened  cheek  upon  my 
eyes,  to  keep  back  the  tears. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

I  know  not  how  long  we  had  remained  thus  silent, 
when  the  words,  "Boat  ahoy !"  startled  us.  We  rose, 
and  stepped  quickly  without ;  and  there,  just  coming 
in  sight,  as  if  rounding  our  signal  point,  lay  two  of  our 
missing  boats.  Of  course  there  was  joy  and  bustle, 
for  we  had  all  experienced  more  or  less  anxiety  for 
their  crews.  Mr.  Garth  was  in  one  of  them,  and  I  was 
struck  with  the  difference  between  Mrs.  Bromfield's 
reception  of  him  and  her  treatment  of  Col.  Anderson. 
She  hastened  frankly  forward  with  extended  hand,  her 
features  speaking  the  cordial  welcome  she  gave  him. 
No  constraint  or  formality,  as  in  the  other  case,  but  a 
kindly  and  genuine  concern  for  his  wasted,  changed 
looks.  He  had  evidently  suffered  much,  though  he 
said  they  had  had  good  weather,  plenty  of  food,  and 
were  only  put  on  allowance  of  water  three  days  before. 
They  "had  naturally  been  anxious  for  the  others," 
he  said ;  and  his  hopeless  eyes,  as  he  spoke,  turned  to 
hers. 

Like  a  sister,  or  old  friend,  whose  right  none  would 
question,  she  sat  down  near  him,  talked  over  our  voy- 
age, and  asked  about  his ;  told  him  of  the  children, 
showed  him  Phil,  fast  asleep,  and  assured  him  the  child 
would  be  delighted  to  see  him  :  "  For  he  has  not  for- 
gotten you,"  she  said,  "  nor  suffered  any  of  us  to." 

It  was  time  that  Harry  should  return  now,  for  they 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  105 

had  already  been  something  more  than  two  hours 
away ;  and  but  for  this  exciting  arrival,  we  should, 
doubtless,  have  begun  to  be  anxious  about  him. 

Mrs.  Bromfield  walked  to  the  end  of  the  tent,  look- 
ing toward  the  point  more  than  once  after  we  spoke 
of  him ;  and  at  length  she  said :  "  Miss  Warren,  I 
think  I  must  walk  out  and  meet  them.  Will  you  re- 
main with  Phil  till  we  return  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  if  you  will  go ;  "  but  the  sun  is 
getting  very  warm." 

"  So  much  the  more  need,"  she  said,  "  of  my  care," 
• — tying  on  her  light  bonnet. 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  service  ?"  asked  Mr.  Garth. 

"  Thank  you,  I  need  no  service,  I  hope ;  but  if  you 
will  walk,  I  shall  be  glad  of  your  company." 

As  I  looked  after  them,  I  thought — this  and  her 
words  puzzle  me  beyond  anything.  She  would  not 
treat  Col.  Anderson  so  for  her  right  hand  ;  yet  I  know 
she  has  wholly  forgiven  his  offense.  What,  then,  is 
the  reason  ?  Does  she  love  the  man  ?  Has  she  found 
in  him  the  divine  power  to  take,  which  she  declared 
she  would  not  resist,  and  is  she  holding  both  him  and 
herself  in  a  show  of  antagonism,  because  of  our  cir- 
cumstances ? 

Thus  I  questioned,  with  a  growing  hope  for  them 
both,  till  the  figures  before  me  had  nearly  passed  from 
my  sight  around  the  rise  of  ground,  when  Phil  awoke, 
and  called  for  mamma.  "  She  is  gone  to  fetch  Harry, 
darling,"  I  said,  lifting  him  and  brushing  his  moist- 
ened hair  from  his  forehead. 

"  Div'  me  some  water,  p'ease,  Miss  Warren." 

I  held  it  to  his  lips,  and  he  drank  a  long,  long 
draught,  with  such  eagerness,  that  I  thought,  with  a 
shudder,  of  the  time,  possibly  near  at  hand,  when  the 


106  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

prayer  would  have  to  be  denied.  I  placed  him  on  the 
ground,  with  a  kiss — Phil's  contact  with  the  world, 
thus  far,  was  chiefly  through  kisses  and  caresses— and 
he  walked  to  the  door.  Next  moment  I  heard  him 
say  :  "  Wat  you  run  for,  Ching  ?" 

"Wattee!  wattee !"  was  the  answer,  in  the  glad- 
dest tones  of  poor  Ching.  "  He  findee — Colonel ;  see  !" 
and  he  held  forward  a  tin  vessel,  containing  pure- 
looking  water,  which  I  tasted. 

"  Good  !"  said  Ching ;  "  no  muchee — one  pail." 

There  was  considerable  bustle  at  the  lower  tent, 
and  I  made  out,  over  all  the  heads,  Col.  Anderson's 
broad  hat,  like  a  small  umbrella,  drooping  on  his 
shoulders ;  and  a  moment  after  he  separated  himself 
from  the  crowd  and  walked  briskly  toward  us. 

"You  have  found  water,  Colonel,"  I  said,  very 
gladly,  as  I  offered  him  my  hand  in  congratulation. 

"  Yes,  thank  God — enough  to  save  us  from  actual 
suffering,  and  perhaps  to  show  us  the  way  to  more. 
It  is  an  eventful  day,  Miss  Warren." 

"Yes,  happily  eventful.  We  rejoiced  to  see  our 
shipmates  arrive  safely." 

"  Where  is  Garth  ?'"  he  asked. 

"  He  is  gone  with  Mrs.  Brornfield  to  Signal  Point, 
after  Harry." 

He  changed  color,  and  moved  involuntarily,  as  when 
a  heavy  shock  falls  upon  some  sensitive  part. 

"  Mr.  Garth  looks  very  miserably,"  I  added,  wish- 
ing in  some  way  to  convey  my  idea  to  him,  and 
scarcely  knowing  how  to  do  it  without  committing  or 
risking  a  blunder.  "  He  has  evidently  suffered  deeply 
on  the  voyage." 

"  And  he  carries  an  advertisement  of  it  in  his  face, 
I  suppose,"  he  said,  bitterly,  "  to  enlist  pity." 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  107 

"  I  did  pity  him,  certainly,"  I  said,  with  somo 
firmness,  "  and  I  know  Mrs.  Bromfield  did  ;  for  pity 
is  always  born  into  her  heart  when  she  sees  pain." 
His  face  grew  harder  and  sterner  every  moment. 
"  She  would  pity  Captain  Landon,  or  Mr.  Watkins,  or 
Mr.  Pedes,  or  any  of  the  men,  if  they  were  suffering  as 
much,  in  the  same  way,"  I  added. 

"  God  forbid  I  should  ever  be  honored  with  that 
sentiment  from  her !"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  could  enjoy 
her  hate  or  Tier  scorn,  but  her  pity — bah !  I  would  as 
lief  feel  a  tepid  bath  rushing  over  me  under  this  sun- 
shine, Miss  Warren !"  and  he  shook  himself,  as  if  he 
felt  the  loathsome  sensation  already. 

I  smiled,  and  said :  "  I  think  you  need  be  at  no 
pains  to  prevent  the  exercise  of  that  sentiment  toward 
yourself.  I  should  say  it  was  the  remotest  of  all  pro- 
babilities, in  your  case." 

"  Or  her  gratitude,"  he  added,  almost  savagely. 
"  I  wish  she  would  never  say  thanks  to  me  again." 

You  are  a  pair !  I  thought :  she  will  accept  only 
the  one  soul  that  is  omnipotent  over  hers,  and  he  is 
chafing  and  fretting,  lest,  in  the  exercise  of  the  com- 
mon kindness  which  our  misfortunes  call  for,  he  should 
expose  himself  to  her  too  fervent  gratitude. 

He  sat  upon  my  trunk,  facing  Signal  Point,  with 
his  eyes  stretched,  after  their  last  savage  flashing,  away 
beyond  all  near  objects.  Little  Phil  was  beside  him, 
with  his  small  hand  resting  in  his  palm — an  aifecting 
picture  of  trust  and  wonder.  He  had  not  heard  the 
mention  of  his  mother's  name,  and  in  the  languid 
silence  that  followed  his  long  slumber  he  had  heeded 
only  the  last  word  and  looks  of  his  beloved  friend. 

'*  Good  God  !"  exclaimed  Col.  Anderson,  suddenly 
starting  forward  ;  "  what  can  that  mean  ?"  And  fol- 


108  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

lowing  his  movements  with  my  eyes,  I  saw  Mrs.  Brom- 
field  and  Mr.  Garth  approaching  in  the  distance ;  she, 
with  some  great  burden  in  her  arms,  which  drooped 
low  under  its  weight,  rather  flying  than  walking,  and 
he  near,  but  a  little  behind,  as  if  unable  to  keep  her 
great  speed.  I  was  sorely  frightened  by  the  sight,  but 
the  idea  of  Harry  did  not  at  the  first  instant  enter  my 
mind.  I  was  bewildered  for  a  moment ;  but  then, 
with  a  great  stunning  pang,  that  shot  from  my  head 
to  my  feet,  came  the  thought — he  is  drowned  !  No, 
that  is  impossible,  said  my  common  sense,  at  the  next 
breath;  with  Antonio,  it  could  not  happen.  What 
then  ? — sudden  illness,  that  struck  him  down  helpless  ? 
That  seemed  hardly  possible  in  a  child  so  healthy. 

As  they  drew  nearer,  Mr.  Garth  made  frequent 
demonstrations  of  taking  him  from  her,  but  she  pressed 
forward  without  even  a  gesture  of  remonstrance. 
Col.  Anderson  met  them  more  than  half  way,  and  I 
saw  that  he  lifted  the  child  from  her  arms,  without 
resistance,  and  apparently  bidding  Mr.  Garth  aid  her, 
they  came  forward.  I  had  presence  of  mind  to  call  to 
Ching  and  tell  Phil  he  might  go  down  to  the  shore  with 
him,  but  he  must  keep  out  of  the  sun  ;  and  as  they 
went,  I  said  :  "  Send  Captain  Landon  here,  quick." 

"  Yes,  me  send,"  replied  Ching,  in  wonder. 

~No  one  had  seen  the  party  that  was  approaching, 
and  when  Captain  Landon,  who  came  at  once,  entered 
the  tent,  I  pointed  to  them.  They  were  now  within 
a  few  yards. 

"What  can  it  be?"  I  asked,  feeling  breathless  and 
cold. 

"  It  is  a  sun-stroke,  Miss  Warren,"  he  replied,  in  a 
tone  which  at  once  cut  off  all  hope. 


CHAPTEK    XIII. 

They  entered,  and  the  drooping  body,  even  now  to 
all  appearance  dead,  was  laid  gently  on  the  sail-cloth. 
The  mother — with  a  face  that,  notwithstanding  the 
burden,  and  the  dreadful  heat,  and  the  haste,  was  as 
cold  and  fixed  as  marble — knelt  down  in  silence  and 
opened  the  light  vesture  which  covered  it.  Then  there 
was  discoverable  a  slight  fluttering  in  the  little  chest, 
which  she  passed  her  hands  softly  over,  as,  with  a  sup- 
pressed, shuddering  moan,  she  turned  to  us  who  stood 
by.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  uplifted  agony  of  those 
eyes  at  that  moment. 

Captain  Landon,  who  had  been  gone  a  moment,  was 
now  here  again,  with  his  medicine-chest ;  but,  with  a 
presence  of  mind  and  clearness  of  purpose  that  aston- 
ished me,  she  put  his  hand  back.  "  No,  no,"  were  her 
first  words ;  and  then  she  turned  to  me,  and  said, 
huskily  :  "  The  little  case  of  vials  in  my  trunk,  dear." 

I  went  instantly  and  brought  it ;  and  when  she 
had  selected  the  one  she  wanted,  she  dropped,  with  a 
steadier  hand  than  my  own  was  at  the  moment,  two  or 
three  drops  in  the  small  glass  cup  which  I  had  filled 
with  water ;  and,  drawing  the  bright  spoon  from  its 
little  sheath  at  the  side  of  the  case,  she  poured  a  spoon- 
ful between  the  faintly  purple  lips.  It  was  all  the 
work  and  thought  of  a  very  few  moments. 

No  contraction  of  the  muscles  of  the  throat  followed  ; 


110  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

and  as  I,  kneeling  also  beside  that  low  couch,  looked 
more  closely  at  the  upper  features,  and  saw  the  slight 
corrugation  of  the  brow,  and  the  fading  crimson  give 
place  to  a  purple  flush  there,  I  knew  that  hope  was 
not  to  us.  I  trembled  with  fear  as  well  as  anguish, 
and  presently  lifted  my  hands,  and,  without  resistance, 
removed  the  bonnet  from  the  head,  about  which  our 
inaudible  prayers  of  feeling  and  act  began  now  to 
center. 

I  stepped  aside,  and  Captain  Landon  came  to  me  : 
"  Take  care  of  her,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice ;  "  the 
child  is  beyond  care  in  this  world.  I  don't  know  what 
to  look  for,"  he  continued  ;  "  she  ought  to  be  flushed  to 
scarlet  with  her  exertion  and  the  heat,  but,  you  see, 
she  is  like  a  statue.  Where  the  blood  is  keeping  itself 
I  cannot  see,  nor  how  to  start  it  in  its  course." 

"  How  long ?"  I  asked,  pausing,  in  dread  to 

frame  the  remainder  of  my  question. 

"  Not  more  than  a  few  hours,"  he  replied.  "  The 
setting  sun  will  probably  see  him  at  rest." 

"  How  can — how  will  it  be  borne  ?"  and  I  shud- 
dered again  and  again,  as  the  question  passed  through 
my  mind,  and  I  looked  at  those  two  figures. 

She  had  dipped  her  handkerchief  in  water,  and  laid 
it  over  the  darkening  brow ;  and  there  she  sat,  rigid 
and  white  and  intent — recognizing  our  presence  only  to 
sign  us  for  anything  she  wanted  for  him — and  we  stood 
watching  for  the  issue,  and  studying,  each  of  us,  how  it 
would  be  possible  to  save  her. 

"  Where  is  the  king  ?"  said  Col.  Anderson,  in  a 
whisper,  to  me. 

He  spoke  the  word  with  an  emphasis  that  conveyed 
his  meaning  at  once ;  and  when  I  told  him,  he  stepped 
carefully  away ;  but  he  might  have  gone  with  the  rush 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  Ill 

of  an  avalanche,  for  all  her  heeding  him.  I  feared  he 
was  going  to  bring  the  child  immediately  in  ;  but  not 
so.  He  returned  presently,  and  taking  Mr.  Garth 
aside,  he  asked  him  to  go  down,  and  keep  Philip  care- 
fully from  the  sun,  and  from  his  mother  also,  if  possi- 
ble, "  till,"  he  said,  "  till  the  time  comes  when  nothing 
else  will  keep  her  to  life ;  and  that  will  not  be  long,  I 
fear." 

Then  he  sat  down,  not  far  from  her,  and  pro- 
nounced her  name.  She  looked  at  him,  in  answer,  but 
did  not  speak. 

"  I  have  seen  such  cases,"  he  said,  before  our  dear 
Harry's,  in  India  and  Egypt." 

I  had  wondered  at  first  what  he  could  say,  feel- 
ing that  I  should  not  have  dared  attempt  so  great  a 
task  as  addressing  her.  But  he  was  right  and  wise  in 
saying  this,  for  the  mystery  and  terror  were  holding 
her  speechless,  as  well  as  the  agony. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  upon  his. 

"  Will  you  rouse  yourself  to  bear  it,  if  I  tell  you  ?" 

She  did  not  speak  in  reply,  but  from  her  eyes  there 
went  to  his  such  a  dumb,  beseeching  glance,  that  I 
felt  the  pain  of  it  go  through  and  through  me. 

He  took  her  hand  between  his  own,  and  chafing  it 
gently,  said  :  "  There  is  such  great  power  in  the  soul, 
dear  Mrs.  Bromfield,  "  if  we  can  but  see  clearly  when 
and  how  it  may  be  summoned  to  our  help !  And 
those  who  live  nearest  to  God,  and  to  the  divine  in 
other  souls,  are  most  richly  furnished  for  such  bitter 
conflicts  as  life  sometimes  forces  on  us.  If  you  now, 
with  that  heart's  idol  before  you,  were,  as  you  might 
be,  with  equal  love,  darkened  and  imprisoned  within 
the  poor  limits  of  ignorance  and  doubt " 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,"  she  whispered,  interrupting 
him. 


112  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  Will  yon  promise  me,"  he  asked,  "  to  bear  it,  as 
I  know  you  can  ?" 

Every  word  lie  uttered,  I  thought,  was  wisely  pre- 
paring her  for  the  final  close. 

"  It  is  a  coup  de  soleil"  he  said,  still  holding  her 
hand,  while  tears  ran  from  his  eyelids  upon  his  cheeks. 

"  Then — "  she  whispered,  and  paused. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  to  the  unspoken  question, 
"  then  there  is  only  left  to  your  darling  a  few  hours 
more  between  this  world  and  that  he  is  so  well 
fitted  for." 

"  Will  he  not  know  me  again  ?" 

"  No ;  he  will  leave  you  without  suffering,  and  will 
never  realize  this  life  any  more." 

He  spoke  as  authority,  which  on  that  subject  he 
was ;  for,  as  he  told  her,  he  had  seen  all  this  many 
times.  After  his  last  dreadful  words,  which,  in  fact, 
announced  that,  to  her,  death  had  already  taken 
place,  she  turned  her  eyes  helplessly  to  the  little  pa- 
tient, and  raised  her  right  arm,  as  if  with  the  purpose 
of  folding  him  in  it ;  but  it  relaxed,  and  fell  at  her 
side ;  she  reeled  to  and  fro  a  moment,  and  the  next  fell 
back,  as  if  dead,  into  Col.  Anderson's  arms  —  who, 
seeing  what  was  coming,  had  placed  himself  to  re- 
ceive her. 

"  Some  water,  Miss  Warren,"  he  said,  looking 
scarcely  less  deathly  than  herself.  "  Pray  God  my 
words  have  not  killed  her  !  I  meant  to  spare  her  and 
soften  the  awful  blow ;  but  this  is  fearful.  Drench 
her  head  with  what  you  have,  and  wake  that  woman 
to  assist  us.  You  must  open  her  dress  and  chafe  her 
chest.  It  is  not  a  mere  swoon  ;  it  is  suspension  of  ani- 
mation, from  the  terrible  shock." 

Till  this  moment  there  had  scarcely  been   a  loud 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  113 

word  spoken  in  the  tent  since  Harry  had  been  brought 
in  ;  now  I  went  over  to  Mrs.  Farley,  after  giving  him 
the  water,  and  shook  and  roused  her,  simply  telling 
her  she  was  wanted.  Her  own  senses  must  take  in 
the  rest.  I  opened  the  loosely-worn  garments  that 
covered  my  friend's  form,  and  Col.  Anderson  dis- 
patched Mrs.  Farley  for  more  water  and  Captain  Lan- 
don-s  presence.  He  came  immediately,  and  we  chafed 
and  bathed  her  temples,  neck,  and  hands,  with  spirit 
and  ammonia,  while  poor  Mrs.  Farley,  dumb  and 
overwhelmed  with  what  she  saw,  but  could  not  tinder- 
stand,  stood  over  Harry  with  a  wailing  that  it  was  pite- 
ous to  hear. 

Beads  of  anguish  rolled  down  Col.  Anderson's  brow, 
during  this  time,  which  seemed  interminable. 

"  Can  we  restore  her  ?"  he  asked  of  Captain  Lan- 
don,  as  the  latter  withdrew  his  hand  from  her  heart. 

"  God  grant  it,"  he  replied,  "  but  I  can  feel  no 
motion  there  yet." 

"  I  fear  she  will  never  return  to  us,"  I  whispered, 
"  any  more  than  the  dear  child." 

"  She  must — she  will,"  said  Col.  Anderson  ;  "  I 
will  bring  her  back,  or  die  with  her  !"  And,  raising 
her  in  his  arms,  he  carried  her  forth  into  the  shade  of 
the  tent ;  and  when  we  had  spread  a  bit  of  sail-cloth, 
he  laid  her  upon  it,  with  her  head  raised  ;  and,  kneel- 
ing beside  her,  placed  his  lips  to  her  heart,  and 
breathed  forcibly  and  long,  breath  after  breath,  upon 
her — we,  in  the  meantime,  busy  with  the  palms  and 
temples. 

It  was  a  great  while — so  long,  that  I  despaired  of 
ever  again  hearing  that  voice  or  seeing  the  light  of 
those  eyes,  when  he  exclaimed :  "  It  is  coming — the 
motion !  I  can  feel  the  flutter  here,  as  of  a  dying  bird ; 


114  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

please  God,  it  shall  be  the  flutter  of  life,  returning  to 
abide.  Captain  Landon,  will  you  bring  Philip,  and 
give  him  into  Miss  Warren's  hand  ?" 

He  turned  and  left  us,  and  the  restorer's  lips  were 
next  moment  pressed  in  unutterable  tenderness  upon 
the  still  insensible  forehead. 

"  It  will  not  wake  her  eyes  to  anger,  now,"  he 
said  ;  "  it  will  not  offend,  nor  pain,  nor  chill  the  heart. 

0  sweet  heart!  O  noble  soul!  O  glorious  life,  come 
back  to  the  worshiped  citadel  thou  hast  fled  !     Miss 
Warren,   place  your  hand    here,    and   feel  if  I   am 
deluding  myself,"  he  said,  when  still  there  came  no 
other  perceptible  sign  of  returning  life. 

I  did  so,  and  found  yet  only  the  faintest  flicker,  as 
a  rose-leaf  would  vibrate  in  the  evening  wind.  "  I 
feel  it,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  then,  God  be  praised,  we  shall  have  her  back 
once  more  !  And  there  is  power  in  love,  they  say,  to 
work  miracles ;  if  so,  mine  ought  to  hold  her  life  se- 
curely wrhen  we  win  it  again.  If  I  could  know,"  he 
said,  "  whether,  before  her  sorrow,  my  presence  had 
been  hateful  to  her,  as  I  sometimes  thought,  or  if  it 
were  her  pride,  I " 

"  It  was  her  pride,"  I  said,  venturing  the  assertion 
in  fear  that  lie  would  withdraw  his  support  when  she 
should  be  conscious  of  his  presence.  "  It  was  her  pride, 

1  am  sure — do  not  leave  us."     And  even  as  I  spoke, 
there  was  a  tremulous  motion  of  the  eyelids,  the  pale 
lips  parted,  and  the  next  moment  her  eyes  opened 
faintly,  but  closed  again,  without,  I  think,  taking  in 
any  object. 

"Bring  the  child,  quickly,"  said  Col.  Anderson; 
and  folding  the  loosened  garments  over  her  bosom, 
I  went  for  him. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  115 

Captain  Landon  had  him  in  his  arms,  walking 
outside,  and  telling  him  that  mamma  was  ill,  and 
he  was  to  go  to  her  when  Miss  Warren  came  for  him. 
He  had  not  seen  Harry.  He  was  to  be  kept  calm  for 
his  mother. 

I  led  him  around  outside  the  tent,  within  which 
Mrs.  Farley  still  kept  her  place  by  the  dying  boy,  and 
before  I  reached  the  spot  where  his  mother  lay,  I  said : 
"  Don't  cry,  now,  Philip,  to  frighten  your  mamma. 
She  feels  very  badly,  and  she  wants  Philip  to  come 
and  kiss  her,  and  be  very  good." 

"  I  will,"  he  whispered,  awed  by  her  pale,  motion- 
less features  ;  "  but,  Miss  Warren,  where's  Harry  ? 
Why  don't  Harry  come  to  mamma  ?  Mamma  loves 
Harry,  too." 

I  smothered  the  last  words  by  clasping  him  close  to 
me ;  and,  alarmed  by  the  danger  they  hinted  at,  I 
said :  "  Harry  isn't  here,  darling,  and  it  will  tire 
mamma  if  Philip  talks  about  him  now." 

"  Well,  I  won't,  then,"  he  said,  his  small,  delicate 
countenance  straining  into  an  expression  of  sore  pain 
as  he  looked  upon  that  prostrate  figure  and  deathly 
face. 

With  this  little  lesson,  I  led  him  up  to  her.  Col. 
Anderson's  face  indicated  courage  and  trust,  otherwise 
I  should  scarcely  have  known,  but  by  touch,  whether 
she  was  alive  or  not.  He  silently  took  Philip  in  his 
arms,  and  sat,  whispering,  to  soothe  and  sustain  his 
little  swelling  heart,  till  the  happy  moment  should 
come.  He  still  held  one  of  her  cold,  passive  hands  : 
now  he  clasped  the  child's  upon  it,  that  the  touch 
might  familiarize  his  mind  with  her  condition,  before 
his  self-control  should  be  farther  tried. 

Thus  we  waited  long,  long,  for  the  positive  or  more 


116  THE  IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

manifest  evidences  of  returned  consciousness.  The 
bathing  with  spirits  and  chafing  were  continued,  and 
again  remitted,  at  short  intervals :  but  I  more  than 
once  despaired  of  her  ever  speaking  to  us  more,  so  fear- 
fully prolonged  was  our  suspense. 

"  Col.  Anderson,"  I  said,  as  we  were  passing  out 
of  the  tent — whither  we  had  stepped  for  a  moment  to 
look  at  Harry,  leaving  Phil  with  his  little  cheek  laid 
to  his  mother's  forehead  —  "is  there  not  still  a 
doubt  of  her  recovery  ?  it  is  so  very  long  since 
she  fell  into  this  state  !  Do  you  know  it  is  near  an 
hour?" 

"  Yes — I  am  more  anxious  than  I  can  tell  you,"  he 
replied.  "  She  is  now,  I  think,  though  very  slowly,  re- 
viving ;  but  the  danger  is,  that,  the  first  action  of  her 
memory  may  be  to  restore  that  fearful  picture,  and 
so  banish  life  again,  when  our  poor  skill  and  means 
might  fail  to  recall  it." 

He  resumed  his  seat  by  her,  and  took  the  child — to 
whose  caresses  and  suppressed  wailing  she  was  still 
insensible — again  in  his  arms.  It  was  wonderful — 
his  self-imposed  calmness — and  showed  us  the  mother 
in  miniature. 

"  What  do  you  wash  mamma  in  that  for  ?" 
he  asked,  as  I  resumed  the  bathing  of  her  temples  and 
throat. 

"  Because  she  is  very  tired,  love,  and  feels  so  ill, 
and  this  will  make  her  better." 

"  Will  it  make  her  well  enough  to  speak  to  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  by-and-by." 

A  slow  contraction  of  the  right  hand — the  least 
perceptible  movement  of  it — and  our  hearts  bounded 
at  the  sight. 

"Mamma,"  pleaded  Phil,  scarcely  able  to  articu- 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  117 

late,  and  reaching  out  to  touch  the  living  member — 
"  do  you  want  me,  mamma  dear  2" 

The  sweet,  clear,  tender  accents,  seemed  to  pene- 
trate the  dull  ear ;  for  we  saw  a  visible  effort  to  part 
the  eyelids,  and  the  lips  moved ;  but  no  sound  came 
forth.  Col.  Anderson  rose  hastily  and  stepped  away, 
but  returned  in  a  moment,  with  a  bottle  of  Burgundy 
Port  in  his  hand. 

"  The  spoon  she  used,  Miss  "Warren,"  he  said. 
"  A  little  wine  cannot  fail  to  help  this  struggle  of 
nature."  And  he  poured  some  out,  and  put  it  to 
her  lips. 

It  evidently  passed,  though  we  could  detect  no  dis- 
tinct effort  to  swallow ;  presently  another  was  taken, 
and  shortly  after  our  trembling  hearts  were  made  glad 
by  seeing  her  eyes  open,  and  the  returning  intelligence 
look  feebly  out  upon  us. 

Thereupon  Philip  softly  laid  his  lips  to  hers,  and 
repeated  the  assurance  of  his  presence.  He  was  re- 
warded by  the  most  shadowy  smile  that  ever  flitted  over 
a  wan,  sunken  face  ;  but  her  hand  closed  feebly  upon 
his,  and  so  we  knew  that  the  silver  cord  was  not  finaly 
parted. 

I  now  left  the  three,  to  go  to  that  other  couch  and 
that  form  whence  the  thread  of  life  was  slowly  unwind- 
ing in  a  silence  that  would  never  be  broken  this  side 
the  gates  of  Heaven.  Perfectly  motionless  he  lay,  his 
beautiful  face  darkening  with  the  purple  tide  that  had 
been  so  suddenly  arrested,  but  with  no  other  visible 
change,  except  a  slight  gathering  of  froth  on  the  lips, 
which  his  mournful  attendant  wiped  gently  away,  from 
time  to  time.  There  were  sad  faces  looking  in  silently 
every  moment,  and  Mr.  Garth,  utterly  broken  down, 
sat  by  the  little  feet  he  had  so  often  guided,  his  face 


118  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

buried  in  his  hands,  and  wept.  Captain  Landon  went 
and  came,  and  Ching,  and  the  seamen  ;  but  I  remem- 
bered, at  length,  that,  among  all  the  solemn  ones,  I  had 
not  seen  Antonio. 

When  I  asked  for  him,  Mr.  Watkins  told  me  he  had 
not  been  seen  since  Mr.  Garth  and  Mrs.  Bromfield  met 
him  with  Harry  in  his  arms.  "  I  suppose,"  he  added,  "  the 
fellow  feels  badly  enough,  for  it  is  very  likely  that  he 
went  into  the  surf,  after  playing  awhile,  and  forgot 
himself  there,  leaving  the  child  in  the  sun  alone.  Mr. 
Garth  says  he  looked  little  better  than  Harry,  and  gave 
him  up  to  his  mother  without  speaking." 

"Will  you  not  send  some  one  to  persuade  him 
back  ?"  I  inquired.  "  Poor  fellow  !  he  may  be  afraid 
to  come." 

"  We  will  see  to-morrow,"  he  replied,  "  if  he  does 
not  come  of  himself  to-night." 


CHAPTEK    XIY. 

Mrs.  Bromfield  recovered  her  consciousness  slowly, 
but  steadily.  After  the  first  few  words,  we  felt  no  fear 
of  its  immediate  loss  again,  for  she  had  her  own  bal- 
ance, in  a  degree,  and  spoke  to  relieve  the  anxiety  she 
read  in  our  faces.  Col.  Anderson  leant  over,  to  hear. 

"  I  shall  not  lose  myself  a  second  time,"  she  said. 
"  I  know  all  that  has  happened — do  not  fear  for  me 
any  more." 

But  she  lay  still  and  held  Phil's  hand,  and  occa- 
sionally whispered  a  word  in  his  ear.  "  How  is  it — in 
there  ?"  she  presently  asked,  of  Col.  Anderson. 

"  Just  the  same,  my  dear  friend,"  was  his  reply. 

"  Will  you  help  me  to  go  to  him  ?" 

"  I  would  help  you,  God  knows,  and  bear  you  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  if  it  would  serve  you  ;  but  let  me 
pray  you,  first,  to  get  firmer  hold  on  the  life  we  have 
seen  so  nearly  lost  to  us." 

"  The  danger  is  past,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  not  be 
shocked  now,  and  I  cannot  lie  here." 

She  spoke  with  great  difficulty,  but  with  such  firm- 
ness of  purpose,  that  we  felt  resistance  to  be  fruitless ; 
and  so  she  was  passively  taken  again  in  Col.  Ander- 
son's arms,  and  laid  beside  her  perishing  child.  As 
she  was  going,  she  motioned  me  for  Philip ;  and  now 
the  tent  was  cleared  for  the  sufferers — only  Col.  An- 
derson and  Mrs.  Farley  remaining,  beside  myself. 


122  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

with  an  agonizing  fondness  which  I  feared  to  see  her 
so  indulge,  without  a  tear  or  groan.  At  length  I  stole 
away  to  the  door,  and  signed  to  Captain  Landon,  who 
stood  near  in  the  shade. 

"  Is  it  over  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  and  I  wish  Col.  Anderson  would  bring 
Philip  in." 

Ching  was  dispatched  immediately  to  the  beach,  and 
presently  the  two  were  there,  both  pale,  but  the  child, 
with  the  blessed  elasticity  of  his  years,  very  much 
cheered  and  comforted  by  the  absence  and  by  what  he 
had  seen  and  heard.  He  had  a  beautiful  and  rare  shell 
in  his  hand,  which  he  offered  to  his  mother,  who  took 
it  mechanically  in  hers,  and  in  answer  to  my  inquiry, 
if  she  would  now  rest  outside  the  tent,  assented.  With 
my  own  and  Captain  Landon's  help  she  rose  to  her  feet, 
but  her  limbs  refused  their  office.  In  spite  of  her  strong 
will,  they  bent  to  the  ground,  and  she  was  again  raised, 
and  borne  away,  scarcely  more  alive  than  the  form  she 
left  there. 

It  was  now  almost  sunset,  and  what  a  night  of  suf- 
fering followed  that  day's  close  !  None  who  witnessed, 
will  ever,  I  am  sure,  forget  it.  Preparation  for  the 
burial,  next  day,  was  made  on  one  side  of  the  tent, 
and  unbroken  vigil  kept  with  the  dead  and  almost 
dying  on  the  other.  Mr.  Garth  took  Phil,  after  he  had 
been  undressed  and  bathed,  down  to  the  store,  and  in 
time  brought  him  back,  sound  asleep ;  which,  in  the 
midst  of  all  our  pain  and  anxiety,  was  a  mercy  I  could 
scarcely  be  enough  thankful  for.  Col.  Anderson  and 
I  sat  by  her  till  the  moon  was  extinguished  in  the  full 
light  of  the  succeeding  morning.  Silent  she  lay,  with 
never  a  moan  or  sigh  of  pain ;  only  when  one  held  her 
cold  hand,  or  touched  her  arm  or  shoulder,  a  shudder 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  123 

could  sometimes  be  felt,  or  a  convulsive  movement 
passing  over  the  weary  nerves ;  but  when  we  looked 
into  her  face  with  alarm,  after  these  signs  of  her  suffer- 
ing, she  would  appeal  to  us  with  such  mingled  entreaty 
not  to  be  so  disturbed,  and  such  feeble  assurance  that 
she  was  in  no  danger,  and  would  rather  be  left  alone, 
that  I  should  have  yielded  to  her  but  for  the  Colonel 
and  Captain  Landon,  who  both  forbade  the  thought. 

"  You  must  not  trust  her  alone,"  said  the  former. 
"  In  five  minutes  she  might  be  beyond  help." 

So  we  sat,  and  when  daylight  came,  it  would  have 
been  difficult  for  a  stranger  to  tell  which  was  to  be 
buried  that  day — mother  or  child — but  for  the  little 
coffin  that  stood  inside  the  opposite  door  of  the  tent. 
It  had  been  made  of  rough  boards,  with  few  and  im- 
perfect tools  ;  but  its  finish,  nevertheless,  testified  to  the 
patience  and  skill  with  which  love  furnishes  the  heart 
and  hand.  To  my  surprise,  too,  it  was  lined  with 
a  clear,  transparent  muslin,  laid  in  folds  about  the 
head. 

"Where  did  they  get  that?"  I  asked,  of  Mrs. 
Farley. 

"  I  tore  up  the  sleeves  of  my  basque,"  she  replied ; 
"  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  the  little  dear's  face  next 
to  those  ugly  boards." 

I  kissed  her  cordially,  on  the  instant,  fully  appre- 
ciating the  sacrifice,  and  said :  "  I  am  very  thankful, 
Mrs.  Farley ;  it  will  look  so  much  better  when  she 
sees  it !" 

And  now  we  went  to  uncover  the  body  and  lay  it 
in  its  last  bed.  Mrs."  Farley  preceded  me,  and  as  she 
removed  the  cloth  from  his  face,  she  said  :  "  See,  Miss 
Warren,  how  handsome  he  is  !" 

And,  indeed,  I  was  startled  by  the  clear,  saintly 


122  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

with  an  agonizing  fondness  which  I  feared  to  see  her 
so  indulge,  without  a  tear  or  groan.  At  length  I  stole 
away  to  the  door,  and  signed  to  Captain  Landon,  who 
stood  near  in  the  shade. 

"  Is  it  over  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  and  I  wish  Col.  Anderson  would  bring 
Philip  in." 

Ching  was  dispatched  immediately  to  the  beach,  and 
presently  the  two  were  there,  both  pale,  but  the  child, 
with  the  blessed  elasticity  of  his  years,  very  much 
cheered  and  comforted  by  the  absence  and  by  what  he 
had  seen  and  heard.  He  had  a  beautiful  and  rare  shell 
in  his  hand,  which  he  offered  to  his  mother,  who  took 
it  mechanically  in  hers,  and  in  answer  to  my  inquiry, 
if  she  would  now  rest  outside  the  tent,  assented.  With 
my  own  and  Captain  Landon's  help  she  rose  to  her  feet, 
but  her  limbs  refused  their  office.  In  spite  of  her  strong 
will,  they  bent  to  the  ground,  and  she  was  again  raised, 
and  borne  away,  scarcely  more  alive  than  the  form  she 
left  there. 

It  was  now  almost  sunset,  and  what  a  night  of  suf- 
fering followed  that  day's  close  !  None  who  witnessed, 
will  ever,  I  am  sure,  forget  it.  Preparation  for  the 
burial,  next  day,  was  made  on  one  side  of  the  tent, 
and  unbroken  vigil  kept  with  the  dead  and  almost 
dying  on  the  other.  Mr.  Garth  took  Phil,  after  he  had 
been  undressed  and  bathed,  down  to  the  store,  and  in 
time  brought  him  back,  sound  asleep ;  which,  in  the 
midst  of  all  our  pain  and  anxiety,  was  a  mercy  I  could 
scarcely  be  enough  thankful  for.  Col.  Anderson  and 
I  sat  by  her  till  the  moon  was  extinguished  in  the  full 
light  of  the  succeeding  morning.  Silent  she  lay,  with 
never  a  moan  or  sigh  of  pain ;  only  when  one  held  her 
cold  hand,  or  touched  her  arm  or  shoulder,  a  shudder 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  123 

could  sometimes  be  felt,  or  a  convulsive  movement 
passing  over  the  weary  nerves ;  but  when  we  looked 
into  her  face  with  alarm,  after  these  signs  of  her  suffer- 
ing, she  would  appeal  to  us  with  such  mingled  entreaty 
not  to  be  so  disturbed,  and  such  feeble  assurance  that 
she  was  in  no  danger,  and  would  rather  be  left  alone, 
that  I  should  have  yielded  to  her  but  for  the  Colonel 
and  Captain  Landon,  who  both  forbade  the  thought. 

"  You  must  not  trust  her  alone,"  said  the  former. 
"  In  five  minutes  she  might  be  beyond  help." 

So  we  sat,  and  when  daylight  came,  it  would  have 
been  difficult  for  a  stranger  to  tell  which  was  to  be 
buried  that  day — mother  or  child — but  for  the  little 
coffin  that  stood  inside  the  opposite  door  of  the  tent. 
It  had  been  made  of  rough  boards,  with  few  and  im- 
perfect tools  ;  but  its  finish,  nevertheless,  testified  to  the 
patience  and  skill  with  which  love  furnishes  the  heart 
and  hand.  To  my  surprise,  too,  it  was  lined  with 
a  clear,  transparent  muslin,  laid  in  folds  about  the 
head. 

"Where  did  they  get  that?"  I  asked,  of  Mrs. 
Farley. 

"  I  tore  up  the  sleeves  of  my  basque,"  she  replied ; 
"  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  the  little  dear's  face  next 
to  those  ugly  boards." 

I  kissed  her  cordially,  on  the  instant,  fully  appre- 
ciating the  sacrifice,  and  said :  "  I  am  very  thankful, 
Mrs.  Farley ;  it  will  look  so  much  better  when  she 
sees  it !" 

And  now  we  went  to  uncover  the  body  and  lay  it 
in  its  last  bed.  Mrs."  Farley  preceded  me,  and  as  she 
removed  the  cloth  from  his  face,  she  said :  "  See,  Miss 
Warren,  how  handsome  he  is  !" 

And,  indeed,  I  was  startled  by  the  clear,  saintly 


124  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

beauty  that  lay  before  me.  All  the  flesh  had  faded  to 
a  marble  whiteness  ;  all  the  corrugation  was  smoothed 
away  ;  all  the  shadow  of  pain  that  had  been  reflected 
there  the  evening  before  was  withdrawn,  and  the  seren- 
ity of  heaven  had  settled  upon  the  countenance,  which 
seemed  to  my  eyes  radiant  with  its  lofty  but  severe 
beauty.  My  heart  was  gladdened  and  thankful,  for  I  felt 
that  this  would  speak  to  the  mother's  soul  a  language  of 
consolation.  Mr.  Watkins  raised  the  body  with  a  ten- 
derness and  reverence  one  rarely  sees  but  in  seamen, 
and  placed  him  in  the  coffin. 

"  It  seems,"  he  whispered,  "  as  if  he  were  an  angel, 
and  I  ought  not  to  touch  him  with  my  rude  hands." 

Two  of  the  sailors  came  with  some  green  vines  and 
small  blue  flowers  of  the  most  delicate  and  perishable 
beauty,  which  I  laid  in  a  basin  of  water  till  the  latest 
moment  should  come.  Col.  Anderson  had  been  busy, 
outside,  having  an  awning  erected  over  her,  there 
where  she  yet  lay,  silent  and  motionless  as  ever.  But 
she  had  spoken  in  answer  to  his  inquiry,  and  chosen 
the  burial-place— a  miniature  vale,  scarcely  more  than 
twice  the  size  of  the  small  grave,  hollowed  out  on  the 
hither  slope  of  Signal  Point  —  the  one  verdant  spot 
in  our  sight — and  there,  when  I  looked,  I  saw  a  group 
of  the  sailors,  with  Mr.  "Watkins  among  them,  scooping 
out  the  tiny  tomb. 

Philip  was  sitting  by  his  mother,  who  held  his  hand 
fast  and  still  in  hers,  as  if  she  felt  it  was  the  only 
anchor  that  could  be  trusted  to  detain  her  to  earth. 
How  deathly  was  her  aspect !  yet,  when  I  went  and  bent 
closely  over,  asking  if  I  could  bring  her  some  food  or 
drink,  she  looked  gratefully  up  from  her  once  proud 
eyes,  and,  with  something  that  was  almost  a  smile, 
said  :  "  No,  dear  friend,  I  can  take  nothing  now  ;  but 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  125 

I  am  entirely  sensible  of  all  your  attention  and  tender- 
ness. I  am  not  so  feeble  as  you  suppose,  but  the  shock 
has  so  unstrung  me,  that  I  cannot  yet  command  my- 
self; only  be  patient  with  me  a  little  longer,  and  I  shall 
overcome  it.  I  am  too  much  paralyzed,"  she  added, 
after  a  pause,  "  to  suffer,  except  in  the  moments  when 
I  remember  all,  as  one  must  when  sensibility  comes 
back ;  so  do  not  concern  yourselves  for  me.  I  only 
desire  to  be  still  and  alone." 

"  But  I  have  one  question  to  ask,  dear  friend,"  said  I. 
"  May  I  venture  it  now  ?" 

She  nodded  assent. 

"  You  will  see  him,  will  you  not  ?" 

"  I  cannot  go,"  she  replied. 

"  No,  but  he  shall  come  to  you  once  again." 

I  wished  her  to  see  the  tranquil  and  assuring  beauty 
of  that  beloved  face.  I  knew  it  would  be  so  much 
more  grateful  to  the  agonized  memories,  of  the  days 
that  were  coming,  than  the  last  aspect  which  she  had 
to  recall.  And  I  was  right,  though  both  Captain  Lan- 
don  and  Col.  Anderson — even  the  latter,  with  all  his 
fine  instincts  and  intense  tenderness — opposed  my 
opinion  strenuously.  It  would  rekindle,  he  said,  the 
destructive  emotions  which  Nature  had  kindly  struck 
into  a  temporary  torpor,  and,  he  feared,  endanger 
her  life. 

"  It  will  not,"  I  replied,  Col.  Anderson  ;  I  believe, 
on  the  contrary,  it  may  unseal  the  frozen  fountain  of 
her  tears,  and  that  will  be  the  surest  and  quickest 
means  of  bringing  her  to  a  natural  condition." 

I  had  my  way,  and  when  we  were  ready  to  go  out 
to  the  burial,  Mr.  Watkins  and  Mr.  Garth  bore  the 
little  coffin,  covered  with  a  white  cloth,  to  her  side,  and 
laid  it  upon  the  ground.  The  sailors  stood  at  a  little 


126  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

distance,  and  Captain  Landon,  with  the  prayer-book  in 
his  hand,  was  near  them.  Col.  Anderson,  with  Phil 
in  his  arms,  had  already  moved  off  toward  the  grave, 
to  spare  the  child,  and  himself,  too,  I  thought,  the  pain 
of  witnessing  that  leave-taking.  There  was  not  a  tear- 
less eye  that  looked  on  it — not  one  among  us  but  hers. 
As  I  raised  her  up  and  supported  her  head  upon  my 
shoulder,  I  should  have  trembled,  but  for  the  specta- 
cle she  was  to  look  upon. 

I  had  brushed  Harry's  dark  curls  back  from  his 
forehead  and  temples,  and  the  vine-leaves,  with  the 
flowers  wreathed  among  them,  lay  in  dewy  freshness 
just  on  the  line  where  the  marble  whiteness  swept 
purely  out  from  the  brown  shadows  above  it.  His 
blue-veined  eyelids  were  lightly  closed,  as  if  in  the 
sweetest  sleep,  and  his  mouth  had  its  tenderest  and  most 
childish  expression — such  as  he  sometimes  wore  in  life, 
when  gayly  mocking  his  mother's  fears  or  playfully 
rebuking  Phil  for  some  obstinate  transgression.  It  was 
as  if  the  most  loving,  yet  acute  spirit  of  the  child,  wit- 
nessed and  would  dissipate  our  grief  for  him.  He  wore 
one  of  his  own 'linen  night-gowns,  made,  for  coolness, 
with  a  wide  neck,  so  that  his  full  throat,  and  fair, 
rounded  shoulders,  were  all  uncovered,  as  we  were  used 
to  see  them  in  his  sleep,  and  his  right  hand  held  a  little 
nosegay  of  leaves  and  flowers.  Nothing  could  have 
been  more  beautiful  or  peaceful ;  and  Mrs.  Bromfield, 
after  a  long,  earnest  gaze,  leant  forward,  and  kissed  his 
brow  and  lips  and  throat,  and  then,  covering  her  eyes 
with  one  hand,  motioned  us  decisively  away  with  the 
other.  They  moved  off. 

"  Shall  I  stay  with  you  ?"  I  asked,  seeing  Mrs.  Far- 
ley stand  awaiting  me. 

"  No,  no,"  she  whispered. 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  127 

I  hesitated  ;  for  if  we  went,  there  was  no  soul  near 
her.  "  I  wish  you  to  go,"  she  said,  firmly.  "  I  am  in 
no  more  danger  than  you  are,  my  dear  friend,  and  I 
would  rather  be  alone  now." 

When  we  reached  the  grave,  Col.  Anderson  said  he 
would  return  to  the  tent,  for  it  was  madness  to  leave 
her  thus. 

"  Then  let  Ching  go,"  I  said,  "  for  I  am  certain  she 
would  rather  not  have  one  of  us  with  her  at  this  time." 

So  he  was  sent,  and  told  to  watch  her  carefully,  but 
not  to  speak  unless  she  first  called  him. 

Captain  Landon  read  the  service,  which  had  never 
seemed  so  grand  to  me  as  at  that  burial  on  that  lone 
island  of  the  ocean,  where,  perhaps,  no  other  human 
dust  would  ever  mingle  with  that  of  our  beloved  one — 
where  the  solemn  pulses  of  the  sea  beat  eternal  requium 
—where  the  sun  and  the  moon  and  the  majestic  stars 
would  shine  on,  unhailed,  perchance,  by  any  eye,  for 
ages  after  we  were  gone.  As  the  coffin  was  lowered 
into  the  grave,  and  that  chilling  sound  struck  my  ear 
to  which  every  soul  has  succumbed  when  the  first  earth 
has  fallen  upon  its  vanishing  idol,  I  became  conscious 
of  the  approach  of  some  one ;  and  looking  up,  I  saw 
Antonio,  drawing  fearfully  and  timidly  near,  with  an 
enormous  coral  branch  on  his  shoulder.  He  was  evi- 
dently relieved  when  he  discovered  that  Mrs.  Bromfield 
was  not  present,  and  coming  up  to  where  we  stood, 
with  Col.  Anderson  and  Phil,  he  said,  with  difficulty : 
Ma'amselle,  I  bring  him  for  Harry — so,"  setting  the 
beautiful  marine  tree  up  for  a  tombstone.  "  May  I 
put  him  ?" 

"  I  will  see,  by-and-by,  Antonio  ;"  and  I  looked  at 
the  Colonel,  who  said  I  should  say  yes,  but  it  would 
be  better  to  consult  his  mother ;  and  he  motioned 


128  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

the  wretched,  heart-broken  looking  boy,  to  lay  it 
aside  now. 

Poor  Antonio !  I  thought ;  there  is  but  one  who 
could  have  suffered  as  he  must,  to  have  changed  so 
miserably.  His  countenance  was  cadaverous  and 
sunken,  and  his  naturally  cheerful,  bright  eyes,  had  a 
wild,  restless,  questioning  glance  for  every  face  and 
sound,  like  those  of  a  criminal,  who  dreads  an  enemy 
in  each  rustling  leaf  and  breath  of  wind. 

When  the  sad  task  was  over,  and  we  were  turning 
homeward,  I  looked  around  for  him,  determined  to 
take  him  with  me  to  the  mother ;  but  he  was  already 
gone,  and  a  tender-hearted  Scotch  sailor,  whom  we 
knew  as  Mac,  assured  me  that  he  could  not  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  go  yet. 


CHAPTER     XY. 

"We  found  Mrs.  Bromfield  lying  still  as  when  we 
left  her — one  hand  clasped  upon  her  eyes  ;  and  I  was 
startled  on  approaching  her,  for  I  remembered  that 
this  was  the  position  in  which  she  had  dismissed  us. 
Had  she  died  without  moving  ?  T  stepped  hastily  for- 
ward and  touched  her,  with  a  paralyzing  dread  that  I 
should  find  her  insensible.  But  no  ;  the  hand,  some- 
what warmed  by  the  returning  life-currents,  answered 
the  pressure  of  mine  ;  and  then  I  saw  that  the  tireless 
Ching  was  squatted  upon  the  sand  at  the  corner  of  the 
tent,  where,  by  stretching  his  head  forward,  he  could 
see  her  face  from  above,  and  remain  unseen  himself. 
And  there  he  sat,  like  a  faithful  dog  intent  upon  his 
service,  with  a  more  sorrowful  expression  in  his  long 
Asiatic  eye  than  it  was  wont  to  wear,  and  a  light 
of  tender  sympathy  overspreading  his  blunt,  stolid 
features. 

"Thank  you,  Ching,"  I  said,  dismissing  him,  "  you 
are  very  good." 

"  No  thankee  me,"  he  replied ;  "  I  likee."  And  he 
drew  a  little  nearer,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone :  "  No  he 
diee,  Miss,  like  Harree  ?" 

"  No,  we  hope  not  now,  Ching.  She  will  be  better 
by-and-by." 

"  Oh,  me  hopee !"  he  exclaimed,  apparently  taking 
intense  comfort  from  my  assurance  ;  "  me  so  hopee  I" 
6* 


130  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

When  Col.  Anderson  came  with  Philip,  the  latter 
went  straight  to  his  mother,  and  twining  his  arms 
about  her  neck,  said :  "  Mamma  dear,  are  you  better 
now  ?"  No  answer.  "  Turnel  Annerson  say,  mamma, 
'at  Harry's  gone  away  to  the  angels,  and  now  you 
must  wake  up  and  love  me.  Will  you,  mamma? 
Will  you  speak  to  me  ?" 

What  sweet,  penetrating  entreaty,  was  in  his  tones, 
and  in  those  simple  words !  and  it  prevailed,  for  she 
let  his  little  fingers  remove  the  hand  from  her  eyes, 
and  looked  upon  him,  and  spoke  tenderly  to  him  many 
words  which  we  did  not  hear,  that  were  evidently  words 
of  comfort  to  the  child's  heart,  and  which  she  also  grew 
stronger  in  uttering. 

After  a  few  moments  Col.  Anderson  drew  near, 
and  dropping  on  one  knee,  bent  over  her,  and  said : 
"  Is  there  any  service  I  can  do  you  now,  Mrs.  Brom- 
field  ?" 

"  I  thank  you,  my  friend — my  dear,  excellent  friend  ! 
I  believe  I  only  require  quietness  and  rest  for  a  short 
time,  to  be  among  you  again.  You  can  do  me  no 
greater  service — you  and  dear  Miss  Warren — than  get- 
ting some  rest  yourselves.  It  seems  to  me  a  very  long 
time  since  you  can  have  had  any." 

"  But  it  is  scarcely  twenty-four  hours.  I  pray  you 
will  not  concern  yourself  for  us.  I  would  not  trouble 
you  by  my  unneeded  presence,  nor  would  I  leave  you, 
if  my  remaining  can  in  any  way  comfort  or  serve  you." 

"  Thank  yon,  I  do  not  know  that  it  can.  It  is  to 
myself,  and  One  who  is  above  us  all,  that  I  must  look 
for  the  strength  and  help  I  most  need  at  this  time.  I 
am  deeply  sensible  of  your  care  and  tenderness ;  but 
only  God  and  my  own  soul  can  help  me  to  bear  this. 
Go,  now,  and  let  me  see  you  again  by-and-by." 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  131 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  man,  moved  to  tears  by  the 
steadfast  power  and  fearful  suifering  that  were  con- 
tending in  that  beloved  bosom ;  "  yes,  I  will  see  yon 
again,  when  the  sun  is  getting  low,  and  take  Philip 
a  walk  on  the  beach." 

And  so  he  left  us  to  ourselves.  Mrs.  Farley,  who 
had  exerted  herself  surprisingly,  and  was  very  much 
exhausted,  had  lain  down  in  the  tent ;  and  I  drew  near 
my  friend  and  her  child,  and,  after  telling  her  of  An- 
tonio's appearance  and  request,  and  receiving  her  full 
pardon  to  convey  to  him,  I  also,  overcome  by  emotion, 
fatigue,  and  heat,  fell  asleep.  When  I  awoke,  the  sun 
was  low  in  the  west ;  Mrs.  Bromfield  had  left  my  side, 
but  Phil  lay  there  yet,  in  deep  slumber ;  and  I  heard 
subdued  voices  within  the  tent ;  I  rose  immediately, 
and  stepping  thither,  found  Captain  Landon  and  Mr. 
Garth  in  conversation  with  her.  She  had  walked,  with 
Captain  L.'s  assistance,  she  told  me,  and  had  no  doubt, 
that,  by  to-morrow,  she  should  be  quite  able  to  help 
herself. 

"  And  we  hope,  Miss  Warren,"  said  the  Captain, 
"  to  have  the  pleasure  of  reporting  a  ship  to  you  in 
half  an  hour  or  so.  Watkins  has  gone  up  with  the 
glass,  to  see  what  it  is,  and  he  will  very  soon  be  here 
with  the  news." 

"  Have  you  any  means  beside  the  signal,"  I  asked, 
gladdened,  under  all  our  weight  of  sorrow,  "  of  calling 
her  to  our  help  ?" 

"  None  of  much  avail,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  If  we 
had  our  cannon  and  the  powder  that  has  gone  to  the 
fishes,  we  could  signal,  in  this  air,  with  a  still  sea,  fifty 
miles,  I  think  ;  and  if  they  should  be  holding  toward 
us,  we  shall  be  very  likely,  by  the  means  in  our  power, 
to  attract  attention." 


132  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

Oh,  how  my  hope  was  kindled  by  this  announce- 
ment, and  how  rapidly  the  idea  of  rescue  grew  in  my 
mind  to  be  the  sole  one  worthy  of  entertainment ! 
Captain  Landon  left  us  very  soon,  unable  to  remain 
quiet,  yet,  as  he  confessed,  unable  to  use  his  own  eyes 
reliably,  since  our  long  voyage  in  the  open  boat. 

"  If  this  sudden  and  vague  hope  should  be  realized," 
said  Mrs.  Bromfield,  "  which  I  can  hardly  trust  my- 
self to  think  possible,  we  should,  doubtless,  leave  the 
island  to-morrow  morning,  should  we  not  2" 

"  I  suppose  it  would,  at  least,  be  early  in  the  day," 
replied  Mr.  Garth. 

"  In  that  case,  might  I  rely  on  your  kindness  to  bring 
Antonio  here  this  evening?  Or,  bring  him,  first,  to 
Miss  Warren,"  she  added,  "  and  perhaps  she  will  more 
easily  persuade  him  to  come  to  me." 

He  promised,  and  we  were  sitting  silent  a  moment, 
when  a  shout  came  up  from  the  beach,  of  "  Ship  ahoy  !" 
Mr.  Garth  started,  and  I  saw  Mr.  Watkins  there,  glass 
in  hand,  talking  earnestly  to  Captain  Landon,  but  not 
hopefully,  as  it  seemed  to  me.  I  went  down,  hurrying 
impatiently  for  the  news.  Alas !  I  need  not  have 
hastened  to  learn  our  disappointment. 

"  She  just  brushed  our  horizon,  madam,"  said  Mr. 
Watkins,  "  standing  northerly.  Her  hull  was  not  in 
sight  at  any  time." 

"  I  could  have  wept,  but  he  said,  cheerfully  :  "  She 
was  like  the  wing  of  hope  to  us,  Miss  Warren.  The 
next  one  will  come  a  little  nearer  ;  and  if  only  a  little, 
it  will  serve  us,  if  they  are  human  that  are  aboard  of 
her.  We  are  going  to  splice  our  signal-mast  with 
about  fifteen  feet  additional  hight,  and  every  one 
doubles  our  chances." 

I  was  struck  with  the  fact  that  there  was  the  same 


THE    IDEAL  ATTAINED.  J  38 

excitement  and  stir  produced  by  this  event  that  would 
have  grown  out  of  the  substantial  expectation  of  imme- 
diate release.  People  went  about  gathering  up  loose  arti- 
cles, and  making  mental  inventories  of  the  things  to  be 
taken,  and  those  to  be  left — as  if  the  vessel,  instead  of 
being  already  out  of  sight,  were  then  dropping  her 
anchor  or  heaving  to  in  the  offing.  So  there  was 
no  immediate  need,  I  thought,  of  looking  up  poor 
Antonio. 

When  Col.  Anderson  returned,  he  sat  down  near 
us,  with  a  sadder  and  more  depressed  face  than  I  had 
ever  before  seen  on  him.  Silent  as  well  as  sad,  for 
what  could  he  say  to  her,  or  to  another,  in  her  pres- 
ence ?  Too  earnest  to  utter  consolations  that  could 
not  be  received;  too  keenly  loving  to  feel  anything 
but  her  sorrow ;  too  tender,  with  all  that  stalwart 
manliness,  to  witness  her  suffering,  without  suffering 
with  her;  and  forbidden  all  approach  to  the  aching 
heart,  whose  pain  he  yearned  to  still  in  the  strength 
of  his  pure  love,  he  seemed  to  me,  as  I  looked  upon 
them  both,  the  one  most  to  be  compassionated.  There 
were  few  words  spoken  between  them — earnest  words, 
bearing  relation  to  her  health  and  returning  strength — 
when  he  rose,  and  asked  Phil  if  he  would  come  to  the 
beach.  "  And  you,  too,  Miss  Warren,"  he  added  ;  to 
which  Mrs.  Bromfield  quickly  joined  her  entreaty,  and 
a  promise  to  be  well  enough  to  accompany  us  the  next 
evening  herself. 

On  the  beach  Phil  had  his  shoes  and  stockings  off, 
and  ran  gleefully  up  and  down,  his  little  feet  looking 
like  water-lilies  on  the  dark  sand,  where  the  lazy  low- 
water  surf  rolled  gently  in,  and  sometimes  caught  them 
in  its  rambling,  subtile  motion.  Then  he  would  scam- 
per, laughing,  to  me  and  the  "  Turnel,"  where  we  sat, 


134  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

and  recount  his  wonderful  escapes,  expressing  his  be- 
lief that  he  did  not  care  if  the  water  did  catch  him — 
it  couldn't  carry  Mm  off. 

After  sitting  awhile,  we  rose,  and  sauntered  along 
the  beach,  talking  of  the  sad  events  of  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours,  with  only  the  briefest  allusions  to  those  of 
the  time  longer  gone.  But  now  Col.  Anderson  drew 
my  hand  within  his  arm,  and  said :  "I  see  before  me 
a  period  of  sore  trial,  Miss  Warren — a  period  of  rack- 
ing suspense,  to  be  passed  in  total  inaction — hard  to 
the  dullest  nature,  but  to  me  consuming  and  keen  be- 
yond expression.  There  is  no  active  toil,  or  danger, 
or  hardship,  to  be  found  anywhere,  that  I  would  not 
gladly  exchange  it  for,  were  not  my  life,  my  heart, 
my  soul,  so  bound  in  these  bonds,  which  I  must  not 
ackpowledge,  and  cannot  break.  Good  God — what  a 
man  can  suffer,  and  live !  You  will  think  me  weak,  I 
know,  because  you  will  compare  me  with  her ;  but  I 
care  little — pardon  my  apparent  rudeness  in  saying  it 
— for  anybody's  verdict,  since  there  is  one  which  I 
cannot  get — which  fate  and  heaven  forbid  me  even  to 
ask.  Phil !"  he  shouted,  sternly,  to  the  boy,  who  was 
venturing  too  far  out,  "  come  in  here,  sir  ;  I  must  keep 
you  by  my  hand,  if  you  go  to  the  water." 

"  I  won't  any  more,  Turnel ;  p'ease  let  me  stay 
here" — coming  above  the  surf-line — "  will  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  are  certain  you  won't  go  farther." 

"  Not  when  I  say  I  won't,"  he  replied,  stoutly ; 
"  my  mamma  always  lets  me,  then." 

"  Your  mamma,  I  believe,  might  trust  anybody  who 
should  promise  her.  I  doubt  if  Satan  himself  could 
break  a  pledge  to  her." 

This  was  for  my  ear,  and  I  replied  :  "  She  would  no 
less  think  of  breaking  her  own." 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  .  135 

"  True,"  said  my  companion  ;  "  or  of  changing  her 
mind,  either,  I  fear.  You  must  know  her  very  well 
by  this  time,  I  think,  Miss  Warren  ;  and,  by  the  near- 
ness of  your  lives,  of  late,  there  should  be  a  perception 
— an  intuition — a  revelation — something  which  would 
give  you  a  glimpse,  at  least,  into  that  deep  heart  of 
hers.  Be  candid,  now,  and  tell  me  if  there  is  any- 
thing there  to  give  me  hope.  I  ask  you,  because  I 
cannot  ask  her,  and  because,  even  at  the  risk  of  being 
thought  unmanly,  I  cannot  always  stifle  this  longing 
of  my  soul.  I  could  be  steadfast  as  any  old  heroic 
martyr— nay,  I  believe  I  could  die  cheerfully,  if  need 
were — could  I  but  know  that  she  loved  me." 

Thus  appealed  to,  what  could  I  say  ?  Not  for  the 
world  would  I  have  compromised  the  delicacy  and 
dignity  of  my  friend,  and  yet  I  longed,  with  a  real 
compassion  for  the  person  at  my  side,  to  say  some 
words  of  cheer  to  him.  I  more  than  half  believed, 
too,  that  he  had  the  best  grounds  for  hope  ;  but  whe- 
ther or  not  I  was  right  in  this,  there  could  now  be  no 
opportunity  of  proving,  till  all  our  circumstances 
should  very  much  change.  Her  grief  clothed  both 
heart  and  person  with  additional  sacredness  from  all 
approach,  and  it  was,  I  suppose,  the  wretchedness  of 
this  constraint  to  him  that  brought  forth  speech 
to  me. 

I  paused  so  long,  in  reflecting  how  I  should  reply 
in  a  manner  to  satisfy  my  regard  for  both,  that  Col. 
Anderson,  shaking  my  arm,  said:  "Can  you  not  speak 
to  me  of  her,  Miss  Warren  ?  Can  you  not,  at  least, 
give  me  your  own  opinion  ?" 

"  I  have  no  other  to  give,"  I  replied ;  "  and  if  1 
cared  less  for  you  both,  I  should,  perhaps,  trouble  my- 
self less  to  consider  what  it  were  best  to  say.  But  I 


136  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

will  speak  the  thoughts  of  my  heart,  only  begging  you 
to  remember  that  they  are  mine,  and  that  I  have  come 
by  them  as  one  woman,  seeing  much  of  another  whom 
she  loves  and  reveres,  might,  honestly  and  fairly,  in 
the  exercise  of  her  own  observation  and  judgment.  Do 
not  forget  that  I  have  no  other  data.  Candidly,  then, 
Col.  Anderson,  I  believe  there  is  hope  for  you.  I  may 
not  be  able  to  define  the  grounds  of  my  belief,  so  that 
they  will  appear  to  your  earthy,  unspiritual  faculties ; 
I  doubt  if  I  ought  even  to  try ;  but  as  you  have  asked 
me  earnestly,  I  will  answer  in  the  like  spirit.  It  is 
not,  I  think,  in  the  nature  of  woman,  so  readily  to  give 
expression  to  her  love  as  man  does.  Or,  perhaps,  be- 
cause she  has  fewer  experiences,  she  delights  more  in 
magnifying  and  coloring  this  in  her  own  bosom,  before 
she  commits  it  to  the  keeping  of  another.  And  my 
friend  whom  you  love  is  more  largely  womanly  in  this 
sense,  as  she  has  a  deeper  and  richer  interior  life,  than 
any  one  I  ever  before  knew.  If  she  loves  you,  and  her 
judgment  or  her  taste  decrees  the  concealment  of  it,  the 
attendant  angels  whom  she  believes  in  will  not  know 
her  feelings,  much  less  I,  till  the  hour  for  their  revela- 
tion comes.  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  say  so  much  ;  I 
think  I  should  not  to  any  other  man;  but  I  count  on 
your  silence.  You  may  make  of  the  suggestion  what- 
ever it  seems  to  justify,  for  your  solace.  To  me  it  is 
significant.  But  of  one  thing  be  assured — of  two, 
indeed.  She  is  keenly  just,  and  withal  tender,  and  I 
believe  that  when  she  shall  recover  herself,  and  find 
her  external  relations  such,  that  the  dignity  and  sacred- 
ness  of  her  feelings  shall  not  be  exposed  to  common 
observation,  from  which  she  would  shrink  as  from  fire, 
she  will  not  inflict  on  you  the  pain  of  a  needless  day's 
suspense.  Are  you  satisfied  ?" 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  137 

"  Satisfied  !"  he  replied  ;  "  would  anything  on  earth, 
or  above  it,  satisfy  me,  but  hearing  from  that  voice  the 
little  words — how  easily  spoken — which  would  fill  rny 
soul  with  diviner  strength  for  the  coming  years  ? 
Would  anything  give  my  heart  rest  but  such  fire  as 
would  flow  into  it  from  those  brown  eyes,  should  they 
ever  open  upon  mine  to  second  such  utterance  ?  Oh, 
Miss  Warren,  I  become  a  child  in  thinking  of  her  !" 

"  An  ungrateful  one,  I  fear,"  said  I,  resolved  to 
attack  his  intense  emotion,  at  any  risk  to  my  own 
vanity. 

"  No,  not  ungrateful,  Miss  Warren.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  thank  you  sincerely  for  the  kind  and  reasona- 
ble words  of  hope  you  have  spoken  to  me.  And  I 
must  ask  leave  to  say  for  myself  that  I  know  I  could 
bear  the  long  suspense  which  must  be  borne  before  I 
shall  dare  to  intrude  upon  her  grief,  if  I  had  any 
chance  for  action — if  there  were  anything  to  work  and 
struggle  for ;  but  this  waiting — waiting  for  time  to  pass, 
and  for  fortune  to  be  borne  to  us  on  the  shifting  waves 
and  fickle  winds — is  like  a  canker  to  my  life.  I  can- 
not be  much  with  you  henceforth,  Miss  Warren.  I 
despise  myself  when  I  leave  her  presence  for  my  want 
of  courage,  and  I  condemn  myself,  in  it,  for  the 
almost  irresistible  impulse  I  feel  to  demonstration, 
that  would  ruin  the  superfine  peace  there  is  now  be- 
tween us." 

"Col.  Anderson,"  I  said,  "I  have  been  involun- 
tarily taken  into  your  confidence  in  this  matter  ;  and, 
as  I  have  passed  the  years  in  which  such  experiences 
may  come  to  myself,  and  am  curious  to  learn  what 
I  may  of  the  strange,  inexplicable  human  heart,  pray 
answer  me  one  question,  will  you  ?" 

"  That  will  depend,"  he  replied,  his  sturdy,  honest 


138  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

English  reserve  coming  up  at  the  word,  "  entirely  on 
its  nature.  I  will  not  refuse  in  unkindness,  you  may 
rest  assured." 

"  Tell  ,me,  then,  if  you  will,  as  candidly  as  you 
would  speak  to  a  trusted  elder  sister,  have  you  ever 
before  loved  any  woman  as  you  do  my  friend  2" 

"Never !"  he  replied,  with  an  earnest  frankness  which 
won  my  instant  belief.  "  I  have  had  passing  fancies 
— attachments,  even — and  I  remember  the  objects  of 
some  of  them  with  most  kindly  emotions  to  this  time. 
Once,  indeed,  I  thought  I  was  in  love,  and  I  was  on 
the  verge  of  declaring  myself ;  but  my  good  genius,  I 
think,  must  have  prompted  me  to  note  my  own  emo- 
tions more  critically  before  taking  that  momentous 
step.  It  was  at  Calcutta,  and  I  got  leave  of  absence, 
and  joined  a  shooting  party  going  far  up  into  the 
mountains  of  northern  India.  But  I  hunted  my- 
self there  more  diligently  than  any  of  the  fierce 
brutes  we  encountered ;  and  in  three  months  I  went 
back,  an  unshaven  savage ;  rough  and  torn  externally, 
but  as  heart-whole  as  a  forest  lion  who  has  never  heard 
the  sound  of  a  rifle.  The  first  visit  I  paid  was  to  that 
lady,  and,  Miss  Warren,"  he  said,  fervently,  "  I  call 
God  to  witness,  that,  to  this  hour,  I  feel  at  times  the 
thrill  of  gratitude  which  ran  through  every  nerve  and 
vein,  while  I  sat  talking  with  her,  for  the  escape  I  had 
made :  perhaps  I  should  say  we,  for  if  I  had  married 
her,  she  could  only  have  been  a  little  less  miserable 
than  myself.  I  shudder  when  I  think  of  it.-  For  I 
believe  very  earnestly  and  substantially  in  love,  Miss 
Warren  ;  and  if  I  am  so  unfortunate  as  to  love  a  wo- 
man who  does  not  love  me — I  will  not  say  who  cannot, 
for  I  fear  I  should  despise  her,  if,  from  gratitude  or  any 
other  motive,  she  could  try — I  would  go,  self-exiled,  to 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  139 

some  distant  country  or  some  deep  seclusion,  where  I 
could  idealize  her ;  she  should  thus  become  the  central, 
ever-recurring  dream  of  my  life." 

"  And  would  such  an  aimless  career  satisfy  you, 
Col.  Anderson  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Satisfy  ?  Pardon  me,  Miss  Warren,  you  ask  a 
child's  question.  The  world  is  not  a  toy-shop  to  me — 
life  is  not  a  show.  I  desire  one  experience — one  hap- 
piness— one  career.  If  they  are  denied  me,  do  not  ask 
if  another  will  satisfy.  Life  has  nothing  that  I  would 
exchange  this  possession  for,  were  it  mine — the  uni- 
verse contains  nothing  that  I  can  dream  of,  which 
would  purchase  it  from  me." 

"  Bat  if  it  should  be  denied  you,"  I  said,  trembling 
in  sympathy  with  the  intense  and  sublime  heart  of  the 
man,  "  do  not  think  to  lose  your  pain  in  idle  dreams ; 

"  '  Still  hope,  still  act,  be  sure  that  life— 

The  source  and  strength  of  every  good — 
Wastes  down  in  being's  empty  strife, 
And  dies  in  dreaming's  sickly  mood.' 

ISTever  will  your  soul  find  rest  in  dreams,  my  friend," 
I  added,  after  a  moment's  silence;  "if  your  heart's 
prayer  is  denied,  look  to  action.  The  world  is  broad, 
and  life  is  rich  with  promises  to  those  who  will  enter, 
as  you  might,  its  fields  of  labor." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  he  replied;  "but  say, 
rather,  its  forlorn  hopes.  I  should  not  care  how  fierce 
the  struggle,  if  it  were  soon  ended." 

"  But  I  believe  it  will  be  better  with  you  than  that," 
said  I.  "  There  is  prophecy  of  a  noble  future  for  you, 
in  the  devotion  of  your  own  heart  and  the  grandeur  of 
her  to  whom  you  have  given  it.  I  shall  see  the  day 
when  you  will  walk  the  earth  a  proud  and  happy  man, 


140  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

beloved  as  you  ask  to  be.     Pray  God  you  may  be  alto- 
gether- worthy  the  blessing,  when  it  comes  to  you." 

"Amen  to  both  the  prophecy  and  the  prayer,  my 
good  friend — with  all  my  soul,  amen  to  both.  And  if 
that  glorious  burst  of  moonshine,  drifting  hither  over 
the  water,  could  be  accepted  by  us  as  an  augury,  I 
would  say,  prophesy  as  great  blessing  for  yourself,  and 
may  it  come  to  you  here  and  hereafter  !" 

We  rose,  for.  Phil  had  been  long  asleep,  and  walked 
toward  the  tent.  Before  we  reached  it,  he  said  :  "  You 
must  take  care  of  her,  Miss  Warren.  You  can  be  all 
tenderness  and  help,  while  I  am  forbidden  to  approach 
her,  but  as  a  stranger,  to  whose  humanity  her  suifer- 
ing  appeals.  And  yet,  she  belongs  to  me  doubly  now, 
for  I  believe  I  recalled  her  to  life  the  other  day,  by  the 
old  Indian  trick  of  breathing  upon  her  heart,  with  a 
strong  will  that  it  would  beat  again." 


CHAPTEK    XVI. 

Three  days  passed  before  Mrs.  Bromfield  was  able 
to  walk  out  of  the  tent.  "We  were  anxious  about  her ; 
about  our  missing  boats  (poor  Mr.  Wilkes — never  more 
to  see  the  wife  and  daughter  in  their  "  own  house  "  at 
Milleville !)  about  our  rescue,  and  our  provisions — 
which  were  beginning  now  to  be  very  carefully  hus- 
banded. 

In  our  tent  we  had  fresh  fish  every  morning  for 
breakfast ;  fish,  beef,  and  fruits,  with  a  biscuit  each, 
for  dinner ;  and  generally  there  was  no  third  meal, 
except  for  little  Phil,  who  went  on  bravely  through 
all,  only  now  and  then  indulging  some  tearful  reminis- 
cences of  Harry,  and  hovering  about  mamma  with 
questions  or  caresses,  according  to  the  moment's  mood. 
Captain  Landon,  it  was  very  plain,  began  to  feel 
deeply  concerned.  He  watched  the  waters,  and  when 
his  own  eyes  failed  to  assure  him  that  there  was  no- 
thing— no  vision  of  mercy  unfolded  where  he  thought 
he  had  seen  a  white  speck  on  the  horizon — he  would 
summon  Mr.  Watkins,  or  Col.  Anderson,  and  give 
them  the  glass,  watching  their  faces  eagerly  meanwhile 
for  the  first  sign  of  rejoicing. 

He  accompanied  us  in  our  first  evening  walk  on  the 
beach,  supporting  Mrs.  Bromfield,  while  Phil  led  me, 
and  Mrs.  Farley  sauntered  and  sat  alternately,  seeming 
more  in  danger  of  utterly  extinguishing  herself  than 


142  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

ever.  Col.  Anderson  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  after  we 
left  the  tent,  and  when  our  patient  was  fatigued  and 
wanted  to  sit,  the  Captain  left  us  alone,  saying  he 
would  return  by-and-by,  to  walk  up  with  us. 

She  was  still  very  weak,  and  as  she  leant  her  head 
upon  my  shoulder,  I  felt  the  blessed  tears  drop,  one  by 
one,  large  and  fast,  upon  my  neck.  "  Thank  God,"  I 
whispered,  "  for  those  tears  !  Through  them  your  soul 
will  rise  again  to  light  and  hope." 

"I  could  not  weep  before,  my  dear  friend,"  she 
said.  "  Nothing  has  touched  my  heart  but  to  stun 
and  chill  it ;  but  Captain  Landon  has  been  speaking 
so  kindly  and  encouragingly  to  me,  and  so  pitifully  of 
poor  Antonio — who,  he  says,  still  stays  away,  and 
looks  like  a  wild  man,  in  his  hungry,  haggard  despair 
—that  I  see  how  selfishly  I  have  submitted  to  my  own 
pain,  forgetting  that  there  were  others  suffering  as 
much,  whom  I  could  relieve.  You  must  bring  him  to 
me  early  to-morrow  morning,  dear.  Captain  Landon 
says  he  will  have  Mac  persuade  him  to  come  to  the 
tent ;  and  he  thinks  he  can,  by  telling  him  that  I  am 
better,  and  wish  to  see  him  about  a  tombstone  for 
Harry.  It  seems  the  poor  creature  has  wandered  all 
over  the  island  in  his  wretchedness,  and  tells  of  green 
grass  and  trees  and  rocks  at  the  south-western  extrem- 
ity ;  whither,  Captain  L.  says,  if  the  worst  comes,  he 
will,  by-and-by,  remove  our  tents,  and  only  keep  one 
here,  for  a  lookout  northward." 

"  It  will  be  very  dreadful  if  we  have  to  remain  here 
much  longer,"  said  IT  "I  heard  Mr.  Watkins  telling 
Ching,  this  morning,  that  the  men  could  have  but  a 
biscuit  a  day,  from  this  time,  and  there  must  be  no 
more  coffee  made,  except  when  the  Captain  ordered  it. 
That  looks  as  if  we  were  threatened  with  what  we 
haye  not  yet  known — does  it  not  ?" 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Miss  Warren ;  but  we  shall  not 
starve  here,  you  know,  because  we  can  get  fish  and 
fruits  when  our  own  provisions  are  consumed.  Let  us 
not  anticipate  evil.  If  worse  is  coming  than  we  have 
yet  experienced,  we  shall  be  best  able  to  bear  it  by  en- 
couraging each  other  to  hope  and  cheerfulness.  Per- 
haps the  vessel  that  will  rescue  us  is  but  two  days',  or 
even  a  few  hours'  sail  hence.  It  may  come  any  day, 
you  know,  on  that  great  highway,  which  is  so  wide 
and  long,  that,  like  the  regions  of  space,  myriads  of 
travelers  may  pass  and  repass  upon  its  face,  each  un- 
conscious that  he  is  not  alone  there.  I  will  try,  my 
dear  friend,  to  forget  the  sorrow  you  have  been  so 
noble  in — you  and  others — and  help  you  in  your  turn. 
Is  Col.  Anderson  more  anxious  ?  I  have  scarcely  seen 
him  since — since  that  day." 

"  He  is  very  miserable  with  this  waiting,"  I  replied, 
"  as  any  active  man  of  large  life  and  sturdy  purpose 
like  him  would  be ;  but  I  do  not  know  that  he  yet  suf- 
fers any  increased  anxiety  for  our  final  fate." 

"  I  must  see  him  to-morrow.  He  has  been  so  gen- 
erous and  forgetful  of  all  that  was  unpleasant  in  our 
former  relations,  ever  since  our  troubles  began,  that — 
that  I  must  express  to  him  my  sense  of  his  nobleness." 

"  If  you  had  said  your  gratitude,  dear  Mrs.  Brom- 
field,  I  should  have  told  you  that  you  could  scarcely 
wound  him  more  deeply  than  by  expressing  that  senti- 
ment toward  him.  He  has,  indeed,  been  very  noble 
and  delicate  throughout,  considering— well,  yes,  to 
speak  frankly — considering  how  he  is  suffering ;  but  he 
would  loathe  your  gratitude.  Do  not  summon  him, 
therefore,  to  pain  him  thus,  nor  acknowledge  his  gen- 
erosity in  any  way,  unless  you  have  somewhat  to  say 
that  might  truly  and  earnestly  come  from  the  heart  of 
a  woman  to  a  lover,  to  comfort  him. 


144  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

At  these  words  she  remained  silent,  but  I  felt  the 
fresh,  warm  tears  bathing  my  neck.  I  kissed  her  fore- 
head, and  said  :  "  I  should  not  have  spoken  to  you  so 
frankly,  dear  Eleanore,  but  I  know  you  are  true  and 
noble  enough  yourself  to  wish  to  spare  another  pain, 
and  you  cannot  now  understand  Col.  Anderson's  feel- 
ings as  well  as  I  do." 

"  Has  he  spoken  to  you  ?" 

"  He  has,  but  three  nights  ago." 

"  Then,"  she  said,  sitting  erect,  and  drawing  back, 
as  if  fearful  of  some  further  word  from  me,  "  then,  I 
must  not  hear  one  of  his  thoughts  from  you.  Do  not 
speak  again  of  him,  dear  friend." 

"  I  shall  not  betray  his  confidence,"  I  said,  "  to 
any  one,  least  of  all  to  an  unwilling  soul.  I  should 
not  have  spoken  so  far,  but  that  you  knew  already  how 
he  loves  you,  and  that,  by  speaking,  I  might  spare  him 
the  savage  wrath  which  your  acknowledgments  could 
not  fail  to  kindle.  One  who  truly  loves  is  only  pained 
by  all  expression  which  shows  him  how  far  he  is 
removed  from  the  life  in  which  he  seeks  to  merge 
his  own." 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  words.  I  would  not  speak  to 
vex  or  pain  him,  surely  ;  I  must  be  selfish,  indeed,  to 
do  that,  and  just  now  T.  would  rather  be  spared  the 
analysis  of  his  or  my  own  feelings." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Phil  was  asleep,  lying 
across  both  our  laps,  and  Mrs.  Farley,  just  visible  like 
a  shadow  on  the  sand  beyond  me,  sat  as  if  she  also 
were  in  that  blessed  condition.  "  Can  we  not,  in  some 
way,  Miss  Warren,  pick  up  and  cherish  that  little, 
withering  heart  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Eromfield.  "  I  never 
before  saw  a  rational  person  so  helpless  and  hopeless." 

"  She  is,  indeed,  so,"  I  replied ;  "  and  I  fear  that 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  14:5 

nothing  we  can  do  will  relieve  her.  There  are  kind 
impulses  in  the  little  soul,  but  it  has  been  trained,  like 
a  wall  tree,  in  a  sunny  exposure,  till  all  its  native  vigor 
is  wasted.  Such  a  tree  will  produce  well  while  the 
artificial  conditions  are  observed ;  but  take  them  away, 
and  nothing  can  save  it  from  premature  withering  and 
decay.  Her  wall  and  fastenings  went  to  the  bottom 
in  the  good  ship  Tempest,  and  we  can  neither  replace 
them,  I  fear,  nor  offer  any  substitute  for  them.  No- 
thing in  us  reaches  her,  except  the  momentary  kind- 
nesses of  every  day,  and  I  fully  believe  she  is  thankful 
when  we  leave  her  to  herself." 

"  Poor  soul !  I  pity  her,  truly,  in  her  loneliness," 
said  Mrs.  Bromfield ;  "  and  I  would  willingly  share 
our  scanty  support  with  a  fourth  woman,  if  only  she 
could  be  to  her  what  you  are  to  me.  It  is  the  great 
wealth  of  our  mortal  life — this  of  companionship — yet 
how  few  possess  it,  in  husband  or  wife,  in  parent  or 
child,  in  brother  or  sister  or  friend.  We  all  sustain 
these  relations,  but  who  of  those  that  fill  them  is  the 
companion  of  our  soul  ?  How  many  can  measure  its 
rejoicings  and  mournings — share  its  enthusiasms — its 
unuttered  hopes — its  secret  life  ?  One  who  is  my  com- 
panion must  know  me  by  the  language  of  the  eye — the 
cheek — the  tone,  which  is  not  framed  into  words — by 
the  clasp  of  my  hand — by  the  raised  or  drooping  head 
— by  the  swift  or  slow  step — by  the  whole  dynamic 
utterance.  When  I  have  thrown  down  the  walls  of 
my  being  to  such  a  person — man  or  woman — the  inte- 
rior kingdom  is  as  much  theirs  as  mine.  One  who 
will  lovingly  and  clearly  read  me,  is  a  part  of  myself ; 
and  such  a  soul,  when  1  have  found  it,  is  never  more 
lost  to  me,  though  the  material  globe  be  between  us  in 
the  outward  form.  So  you,  dear  Anna,  will  be  help 
7 


14:6  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

and  strength  to  me  in  all  the  coming  years,  however 
widely  our  mortal  paths  may  diverge." 

"  Yet  I  cannot  read  you,  dear  Eleanore,  as  you 
have  said  sucli  an  one  must.  I  am  in  doubt,  at 
this  moment,  whether  or  not  you  can  rise  to  an  expe- 
rience which  is  offered  you.  I  feel,  in  certain  hours, 
that  no  woman  I  ever  knew  could  meet  it  so  equally, 
and,  again,  I  find  myself  questioning  if  you  can.  I 
have  not  yet  reached  the  depths  of  the  nature  which  I 
can  doubt  thus." 

She  had  drawn  my  hand  tenderly  between  hers 
while  I  was  speaking ;  and,  holding  it  so,  she  said  : 
"  I  have  hidden  from  myself,  Anna,  that  whereof  you 
speak.  Do  not  refer  to  it  now,  my  friend.  My  heart 
is  too  sad  and  weary  with  suffering.  Know  you  not 
that  the  aching  eye  may  shrink  from  the  light  of  the 
most  brilliant  diamond  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,  dear  friend,"  I  said ;  "  I  meant  not 
to  press  you,  and  for  the  moment,  I  was  forgetful  of 
our  sorrow.  There  is  some  one  coming  to  us," 
I  added,  as  we  both  listened  to  the  sound  of  approach- 
ing feet. 

It  was  Col.  Anderson,  who,  stepping  down  the  little 
hillock  of  sand  which  separated  the  beach  from  the 
tents,  said :  "  Ladies,  Captain  Landon  has  commis- 
sioned me  to  come  to  you  in  his  stead.  He  is  not 
feeling  altogether  well  this  evening,  and  trusts  you  will 
excuse  him.  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"  Here  is  Phil,"  I  said,  "  to  be  carried  up ;  will 
you  ask  Ching  or  Mac  to  come  and  take  him  ?  and  then 
we  can  assist  Mrs.  Bromfield." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  she  said,  "  Col.  Anderson's  arm 
will  be  sufficient  for  me.  I  am  no  longer  helpless.  If 
you  will  be  kind  enough,  Miss  Warren,  to  get  that  poor 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

little  woman  under  your  wing,  it  will  be  better  than 
any  service  you  can  do  me." 

And  so  when  Mac  came  and  lifted  Phil  in  his 
brawny  arms — kissing  him  as  he  did  so,  and  muttering 
some  blessing  over  him — I  went  to  Mrs.  Farley  and  found 
her  in  a  condition  between  sleep  and  stupor  that  quite 
alarmed  me,  till,  by  shaking  her  gently,  and  repeating 
her  name,  I  at  last  succeeded  in  rousing  her.  She  was  sit- 
ting with  her  hands  clasped  over  her  knees  and  her  head 
drooped  forward  upon  them,  the  very  image  of  forlorn, 
despairing  helplessness.  I  put  my  arm  about  her,  and 
we  followed  slowly  after  the  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Broni- 
field  ;  and  I  rejoiced  almost  as  I  should  have  once,  if 
so  noble  a  lover  had  stood  at  my  side,  when  I  saw  his 
proud  head  bent  low  to  catch  some  murmured  word 
which  the  wind  was  bearing  away  from  him. 

He  kissed  her  hand  in  saying  good-night,  when  we 
reached  the  tent,  and  I  was  happy  to  see  that  no  rebuking 
fire  flashed  from  her  eyes  at  the  act.  While  we  were 
preparing  for  rest,  Mrs.  Farley  moaned  and  com- 
plained so  much,  that,  after  many  kind  words  and 
proffers  of  service — which  the  little  woman  refused, 
saying  she  was  not  ill,  only  very  much  exhausted — 
Eleanore  went  over  and  sat  down  beside  her. 
"  I  fear,"  she  said,  "  you  do  not  let  us  understand 
your  condition.  It  must  be  more  than  weariness  that 
brings  forth  these  involuntary  groans.  Pray  tell  me 
what  you  feel." 

"  Nothing,  indeed,"  was  the  reply,  "  but  extreme 
and  general  weakness.  I  began  to  feel  it  just  before 
we  went  out.  It  is  nothing,  I  am  sure.  I  shall  sleep 
it  all  away  before  morning."  And  almost  with  the 
words  she  fell  into  slumber. 

Eleanore  looked  at  me  questioningly.     "I  do  not 


148  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

understand  it,"  said  I ;  "  but  whatever  it  is,  I  know  of 
nothing  we  can  do  that  will  be  so  good  as  to  let  her 
rest." 

"  I  do  not  like  her  appearance,"  said  Mrs.  Brom- 
field,  holding  between  her  own  one  of  Mrs.  Farley's 
passive  hands,  which  she  said  was  cold  and  deathlike 
to  the  touch.  "  Do  you  think  it  would  be  foolish  to 
ask  Captain  Landon  to  come  and  see  her  ?" 

"You  remember,"  I  replied,  uthat  he  sent  Col. 
Anderson  to  us,  because  he  was  not  quite  well  himself. 
He  has  no  doubt  retired  before  this  time." 

"  Poor  little  creature !"  said  my  friend,  compas- 
sionately, stroking  her  glossy  hair ;  "  what  a  frail, 
shriveled  life  it  is !  There  is  nothing  near  which  it 
can  appropriate  to  its  support.  I  would  gladly  give  it 
strength  and  nourishment,  if  I  could." 

"  But  you  cannot,"  I  said,  "  and  you  need  care  and 
rest  yourself.  Pray  go  to  bed  now,  and  in  the  morning 
I  hope  we  shall  find  Mrs.  Farley  as  well  as  ever." 

I  was  soon  asleep  myself — it  was  one  of  the  blessed 
powers  of  my  nature,  that,  when  rest  was  necessary,  I 
could  take  it  where  and  when  the  opportunity  came — 
and  I  did  not  wake  till  Mrs.  Bromfield  touched  my  arm 
at  daylight,  and  asked  me  to  come  and  see  how  very  ill 
Mrs.  Farley  looked.  "  She  has  slept  all  night,"  said 
Eleanore,  "  but  so  uneasily  that  I  have  been  up  three 
times,  and  lighted  a  taper,  but  its  light  was  too  dim  to 
show  me  how  badly  she  looked." 

She  was  very  pale,  and  her  countenance  had  a 
sunken,  clouded  expression,  that  frightened  me. 

She  is  very  bad,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mrs.  Bromfield. 
"  Shall  we  wake  her?" 

"  I  should  'think  it  better  to  let  her  sleep,"  I  an- 
swered, "  till  we  can  get  Capt.  Landon  to  come  to  her." 


THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED.  149 

But  word  was  presently  brought  that  Captain  Lan- 
don  himself  was  very  ill.  This  startled  us  very  much. 
We  had  before  been  free  from  anxiety  of  this  sort.  By 
noon  two  of  the  men  were  reported  on  the  sick  list, 
and  Mrs.  Farley  so  extremely  ill,  that  we  had  given 
up  all  hope  of  her.  We  were  incessantly  engaged  with 
her  and  Captain  L.,  who  was  brought  up  to  our  tent 
and  laid  under  the  awning,  where  his  indefatigable 
nurse  herself  had  lain,  so  near  to  death,  but  four  days 
before.  Mr.  Watkins  and  Col.  Anderson  officiated  as 
physicians,  without,  and  Mrs.  Bromfield,  by  Mrs.  Far- 
ley's choice,  administered  to  her.  It  was  that  ter- 
ror of  the  world — Cholera !  Before  sunset  our  poor 
companion  expired,  and  one  of  the  seamen.  But  the 
Captain  still  lived,  and  we  had  hope  of  him  till  about 
three  in  the  morning,  when  his  symptoms  rapidly 
changed,  and  at  half-past  five  the  good  old  gentleman, 
who  had  become  endeared  to  us  all  by  his  unpretending 
and  unfailing  kindness,  breathed  his  last. 


CHAPTEE   XVII. 

The  fruits  of  the  island  had  been  forbidden  the  pre- 
vious day,  as  soon  as  the  disease  declared  itself,  and  we 
had  now  nothing  to  taste  but  salt  boiled  beef,  sea- 
biscuit,  and  coffee.  This  was  hard  fare  for  poor  Phil, 
who  complained  a  little ;  but  seeing  how  his  mother 
tended  the  sick  and  watched  the  well,  cautioning  and 
encouraging  them,  he,  too,  put  on  his  heroic  mood,  and 
declared,  that,  if  "  Turnel  "  and  mamma  wanted  him 
to  eat  beef  and  hard  bread,  he  would  do  it. 

The  dead  were  buried  next  day  near  Harry's  little 
grave,  and  standing  beside  it,  in  the  cool  of  the  even- 
ing, after  the  solemn  reading  was  over,  while  the 
graves  were  being  filled,  Eleanore  gave  her  hand  to 
poor  Antonio,  now  utterly  broken  down,  who  wept 
upon  it  with  the  mingled  joy  and  terror  of  a  child. 

"  You  must  come  to  the  tents,  Antonio,"  she  said. 
"  I  want  you  to  help  me  take  care  of  Phil  and  nurse 
the  sick,  if  there  should  be  any  more ;  and  you  must 
come  to  be  taken  care  of  yourself,  my  poor  boy."  Still 
he  kneeled,  holding  her  hand.  "  It  was  dreadful  to 
lose  my  dear  Harry  so,  but  I  know  you  would  have 
died  to  save  him  if  you  could ;  and  I  am  not  angry  with 
you  at  all." 

"  Not  one  leetle  bit  ?"  asked  the  broken-hearted 
fellow,  in  a  trembling,  hollow  voice. 

"No,  not  so  much  as  that,"  she  said,  showing  him, 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  151 

after  his  own  fashion,  the  smallest  visible  point  of  her 
little  finger. 

"  Then  I  go,"  he  said,  joyfully,  rising.  "  I  take 
the  little  king,  Signorita  «" 

"  Yes,  if  he  likes  to  go  with  you." 
But  the  little  king  did  not.     He  clung  to  the  "  Tur- 
nel"   with  earnest  protestations,  and  so  was  carried 
home  in  his  arms. 

When  we  were  alone  within  the  tent,  Eleanore 
threw  her  arms  about  me,  and,  with  a  flood  of  grateful 
tears,  exclaimed :  "God  grant,  my  dear  sister,  we  may 
be  spared  to  each  other !  Think,  if  one  of  us  were  now 
gone,  instead  of  that  poor,  innocent,  helpless  little 
body,  what  a  dreadful  lot  would  the  other's  be  !  And 
my  darling  boy !"  she  added. 

"  We  are  both  mothers  to  him,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  dear.  I  understand  and  trust  you 
entirely.  It  is  a  great  security  and  rest  to  me.  But 
we  must  keep  ourselves  as  calm  and  cheerful  as  possi- 
ble. We  will  not  let  fear  or  depression  touch  our 
hearts  with  the  tip  of  an  idle  finger.  There  are  so 
many  in  the  world  to  whom  we  are  necessary; 'there  is 
so  much  for  us  to  do,  by-and-by,  when  we  go  hence  ; 
and,  with  all  the  pain  of  this  experience,  there  will  be 
so  many  beautiful,  loving  memories  of  this  little  world 
clinging  to  our  souls,  that  I  was  never  less  inclined  to 
surrender  my  courage.  I  wish  Col.  Anderson  or  Mr. 
Garth  would  come,  before  we  retire,  and  tell  us  that 
Tom  is  better,  and  no  one  else  threatened.  They  think, 
if  he  goes  on  as  he  is  now  till  nine  o'clock,  he  will  be 
out  of  danger." 

"And  may  be,"  I  said — feeling  a  heaviness  of  heart, 
that  belied  my  hopeful  words,  as  I  looked  at  Mrs.  Far- 
ley's vacant  resting-place — "  may  be  there  will  no  more 


152  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

cases  appear,  since  the  fruit  is  prohibited,  and  none 
have  occurred  for  more  than  twenty-four  hours." 

Phil  had  been  undressed  while  we  were  talking, 
and  almost  instantly  fell  asleep  in  his  mother's  arms. 

"  Thank  heaven,"  she  said,  fervently,  "  he  is  not 
yet  in  danger  !  He  sleeps  so  sweetly,  and  is  so  beauti- 
ful !"  kissing  him  long  and  repeatedly  before  she  laid 
him  on  his  couch. 

"We  were  about  to  prepare  for  our  rest,  when  the 
voice  of  Col.  Anderson  greeted  us  from  without  our 
closed  door.  I  unpinned  the  canvass,  and  invited 
him  in. 

"I  come  to  tell  you  only  good  news,"  he  said. 
"  There  is  no  other  case  with  us,  and  Tom  continues  to 
improve.  I  have  been  telling  the  men  some  of  the 
pleasantest  stories  of  my  hunter-life  that  I  could  re- 
member, and  now  Watkins  is  spinning  sailors'  yarns 
to  them ;  so  that  we  hope  to  get  them  cheered  up  and 
send  them  to  bed  with  their  blood  holding  its  due 
course.  My  chief  concern  now  is  for  this  household, 
and  most  for  you,  under  all  this  fatigue  and  excite- 
ment " — turning,  as  he  spoke,  to  Mrs.  Bromfield. 

"  I  feel  quite  well,  Col.  Anderson — tired,  certainly, 
but  very  calm  and  strong,  above  my  physical  weari- 
ness. And  Phil,  you  see,"  she  said,  holding  her  little 
taper  over  him,  "  is  altogether  sound  and  comfortable." 

"  Yes,  the  dear  little  king  is  quite  right,  I  see.  I 
hope  in  the  morning  to  hear  his  accustomed  shout  for 
"  Turn  el,"  early  ;  and  while  it  is  cool,  I  will  take  him 
a  stroll  on  the  beach,  if  we  have  no  more  sick." 

He  moved  toward  the  door  as  he  was  speaking, 
but  Mrs.  Bromfield  checked  him  by  a  motion  of  her 
hand,  and  said :  "  Col.  Anderson,  I  have  among  my 
medicines  the  antidotes  for  this  terrible  disease.  Those, 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  153 

I  mean,  which  are  most  relied  on  by  scientific  men  of 
my  faith  in  Europe  and  America.  We  have  each  of 
us  taken  them  twice  to-day,  and  though  you  may  be 
disposed  to  think  lightly  of  their  efficacy,  I  most  ear- 
nestly recommend  them  to  yourself  and  the  men. 
Will  you  let  me  prepare  some  ?" 

"  I  certainly  shall  not  refuse  for  the  others ;  and  if 
I  have  sometimes  smiled  at  the  sight  of  that  pretty  lit- 
tle box,  it  has  been  less  in  irreverent  skepticism  as  to 
the  virtue  of  its  contents  than  in  admiration  of  the  ear- 
nest faith  of  its  owner.  Pray  let  me  be  numbered 
among  those  you  care  for  in  this  wise,"  he  said,  smiling 
into  her  deep,  clear  eyes,  where  a  momentary  flicker 
of  answering  humor  played  and  was  gone  instantly. 

She  handed  him  the  glass  cup  and  spoon,  with  direc- 
tions, and  kind,  cheering  messages  for  those  it  was  sent 
to ;  and,  bidding  him  not  fail  to  notify  us  if  any  were 
attacked  in  the  night,  she  gave  him  her  hand  with  a 
fervent  "  God  bless  you,"  and  the  words,  spoken  with 
thrilling  earnestness  and  depth  :  "  Do  not  forget  how 
much  we  all  depend  on  you,  my  friend." 

"  Not  more  than  on  you,  I  am  sure,"  he  replied, 
with  eyes  whose  tender  shining  added  volumes  to  the 
audible  meaning. 


CHAPTEK     XVIII. 

When  I  woke  next  morning,  Mrs.  Bromfield  was 
already  on  her  feet,  and  Phil's  shout  of  "  Turnel !  Tur- 
nel !"  was  ringing  cheerfully  from  without.  What  an 
immediate  and  strong  uplifting  I  felt  in  those  two 
pleasant  facts  !  The  next  care  was  to  hear  if  his  call 
were  responded  to  as  usual,  and  it  was.  I  was  looking 
intently  in  Eleanore's  face,  and  when  we  heard  the 
first  cheery  tones — "  Here,  Phil ;  are  you  ready  for  the 
beach,  my  boy  ?" — I  saw  the  gladness  of  peace  steal  all 
over  it,  from  the  smooth  hair  to  the  throat,  whose  curve 
had  unconsciously  become  rigid  in  the  waiting. 

No  other  voice  would  so  quickly  daguerreotype  peace 
upon  her  face,  I  said  to  myself;  and  from  this  moment, 
let  her  silence  be  never  so  obstinate,  I  know  she  loves 
him.  I  was  glad  of  the  knowledge — so  glad  that  I  could 
scarcely  forbear  saying  to  her  how  happy  it  made  me ; 
but  I  did,  for  I  had  a  prevision  of  the  same  counte- 
nance changed  by  my  words  to  quite  another  expres- 
sion than  that  tender  and  beautiful  one. 

When  Ching  came  in  to  lay  our  table,  he  brought 
and  delivered,  in  some  wonderful,  inexplicable  manner, 
Col.  Anderson,  Mr.  Garth  and  Mr.  Watkins'  compli- 
ments, and  they  would,  if  agreeable,  breakfast  with  us. 
Of  course  we  were  very  glad  not  to  sit  down  alone  to 
our  beef,  biscuit,  and  coffee ;  and  we  returned  a  very 
cordial  acceptance  of  their  proposal — using  all  our  arts 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  155 

of  cheering  and  entertaining  each  other,  that  the 
haunting  shadows  might  be  banished  from  our  scanty 
board. 

Mr.  "VVatkins  was  a  hale,  mirthful  man,  with  a  good 
flow  of  spirits,  abundant  courage  and  kindness,  but  lit- 
tle culture.  In  Mr.  Garth  these  traits  were  reversed. 
He  was  both  traveled  and  cultivated,  but  had  a  shy- 
ness— which,  on  such  an  occasion  as  this,  was  increased 
to  painful  embarrassment — in  presence  of  Mrs.  Brom- 
tield.  How  he  had  ever  found  the  nerve  to  declare  his 
sentiment  to  her,  as  I  knew  he  had,  on  board  the  ship, 
I  could  never  make  out.  She  had  always  since  treated 
him  with  the  frankest  kindness,  but  the  most  entire 
respect,  and  he  had  fallen  into  a  habit  of  remaining 
almost  silent  in  her  presence,  except  when  addressed. 
Mr.  Garth  was  unmistakably  a  gentleman,  and  yet, 
paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  he  lacked  somewhat  that  is 
essential  to  the  man. 

Our  breakfast  was  very  cheerful,  for  she  who  was 
the  central  life  to  us  all  had  resolutely  Jaid  aside  her  own 
pains  and  sorrows  from  the  hour  when  we  found  sick- 
ness among  us.  To  have  seen  her  now,  one  would  not 
have  thought  she  had  looked  upon  the  dead  face  of  a 
beloved  child  within  a  week ;  and  yet  I  knew  when  a 
terrible  pang  went  to  her  heart,  on  Mr.  Garth's  inad- 
vertently quoting  one  of  Harry's  sayings  before  we 
left  the  ship.  She  passed  it  kindly  by,  however,  and 
drew  him  on  to  describe  the  lake  and  mountain  scenery 
of  northern  New  York,  where  he  had  spent  the  pre- 
vious summer ;  then  appealed  to  Col.  Anderson  and 
Mr.  Watkins,  in  their  turns,  not  forgetting  me,  with 
my  little  quota  of  experiences,  nor  to  contribute  her 
own,  among  the  others  ;  and  I  do  not  remember  ever 
to  have  sat  :it  a  breakfast-table  where  more  grace  and 


^  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

cliarm  and  unaffected  entertainment,  of  a  grave  yet 
cheerful  sort,  were  offered  and  enjoyed  by  all.  She 
obscured  no  one,  and  yet  we  all  shone  in  her  light. 
I  did  not  wonder  that  Col.  Anderson,  who,  of  our 
three  guests,  could  alone  altogether  appreciate  this, 
offered  visible  homage  to  her  in  his  eyes ;  nor  that  Mr. 
Watkins  found  himself  going  on,  as  he  would  have 
said,  under  full  sail,  with  a  fair  breeze,  though  all  un- 
suspecting whence  it  came ;  nor  that  Mr.  Garth  lost 
himself,  and  did  at  times  gaze  worshipingly  at  the  face 
which  at  others  he  studiously  avoided. 

In  regard  to  health,  when  we  withdrew  from  the 
table  we  were  comforted  with  the  assurance  that  Tom, 
with  a  little  care,  was  past  all  danger,  and  nobody  else 
threatened. 

"  It  seems  too  much  to  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Bromfield, 
that  no  one  else  should  suffer,  and  so  unaccountable — 
the  sudden  coming  and  going." 

"  JSTo,  said  Col.  Anderson ;  "  or,  at  least,  if  unac- 
countable, it  is  not  unprecedented.  I  have  seen  the 
same  thing  in  India  more  than  once.  I  remember  that 
a  friend  of  mine  was  once  loading  an  American  mer- 
chantman with  black  pepper,  at  Calcutta.  He  had 
Lascars  at  the  work,  and  when  he  left  them,  to  go  to 
dinner,  there  was  no  complaint  among  them.  In  the 
evening  I  walked  down  with  him  to  look  about  a  little, 
and  five  of  the  poor  fellows  were  dead  and  dying  of 
cholera,  but  there  were  no  more  cases  in  that  imme- 
diate vicinity  for  a  long  time." 

And  so  it  proved  with  us  now ;  for,  though  Mrs. 
Bromfield  and  I  were  in  painful  expectation,  every 
time  we  saw  any  one  approaching,  for  the  next  two 
days,  no  case  did  occur,  and  we  soon  began  to  feel 
secure  in  that  respect,  and  to  turn  to  the  winds 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  157 

and  the  sea  again  with  longing  eyes  and  anxious 
hearts. 

The  dead — some  one  may  say — did  you  forget  them  ? 
Were  there  no  sad  hours — no  painful  memories  claim- 
ing your  thoughts,  in  spite  of  your  care  for  the  living 
and  your  desire  for  release  ?  Ah,  shallow  mind  !  blind 
spirit !  which  sees  not  under  that  calm  exterior  the 
agonized  workings  of  the  mother-heart — that  reads  not 
in  the  rapturous  caresses  of  the  living  child  the  wealth 
of  love,  now  turned  to  agony,  in  that  heart !  Yet  to 
me,  and  to  all,  I  think,  who  saw  her,  there  was  some- 
thing sublime  in  her  quiet  endeavors  to  hide  her  own 
suffering  and  cause  us  to  forget  it.  In  the  growing 
anxiety  about  our  final  fate ;  in  the  concern  we  could 
not  help  feeling  for  those  who  had  left  the  ship  with  us, 
but  whom  we  had  now  ceased  to  look  for ;  in  the  inces- 
sant stretch  of  mind,  which  grew  upon  us  hourly  after 
we  felt  ourselves  exempt  from  further  horrors  of  pesti- 
lence, for  some  efficient  means  of  hailing  a  vessel  when 
another  should  bless  our  eyes,  outward  indulgence  of 
personal  grief  would  have  been  not  only  painfully 
out  of  place,  but  would,  perhaps,  have  caused  the  for- 
feiture of  that  respect,  which,  fortunately,  each  of  our 
little  band  enjoyed  from  all,  and  which  amounted  to- 
ward Mrs.  Bromfield  to  little  less  than  worship  from 
the  common  men. 

To  myself  and  Col.  Anderson  she  sometimes,  for  a 
moment,  unmasked  her  aching  heart ;  and  at  others  she 
rose  as  to  the  empyrean,  bearing  our  less  spiritual  being 
up  and  up,  by  her  religious  courage,  till,  for  the  time,  our 
imprisonments  and  fears  were  all  forgotten.  One  such 
season  I  remember,  and  ever  shall.  The  day  had  been 
more  than  usually  oppressive  till  toward  its  close,  when 
a  vast  continent  of  showery  clouds  floated  up  from  the 


158  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

south,  and  shedding  their  contents  fitfully  over  sea  and 
land,  piled  themselves  against  the  setting  sun.  What 
inimitable  islands  of  leaden  and  heavy  purple  swam 
there  in  oceans  of  orange  light !  what  golden-topped 
mountains  planted  their  "airy  feet  in  those  gorgeous  val- 
leys !  what  violet  towers,  coped  with  name,  shot  up 
into  the  misty  deeps !  what  banners  floated  there, 
mocking  in  their  redundant  glory  the  pageants  that 
stir  men's  hearts !  what  melting  vistas  opened  away 
into  the  warm,  ethereal  grandeur  of  that  upper  world  ! 
and  what  a  glowing,  answering  sea  lay  beneath  it ! 

We  sat  at  our  tent-door,  gazing  in  silent  wonder 
and  rapture,  till  the  spectacle  had  faded  into  the  sober 
hues  of  evening. 

"  And  so,  according  to  the  poets,  fade  the  bright 
hopes  of  youth,  when  earnest  life  draws  on,"  said 
Eleanore. 

"  And  you  agree  with  the  poets,  do  you  not  f 
I  asked. 

"  No,  Anna.  I  used  to,  and  I  have  wept  tears  of 
sentimental  agony  over  that  loss.  I  have  mourned 
through  endless  summer  days  and  long  twilights,  and 
counted  the  hours  which  removed  me  further  from  the 
hope,  the  strength,  and  the  joy  of  youth.  I  grieved 
that  the  Father  had,  as  I  thought,  given  us  in  the 
morning  all  the  magic  wealth  that  should  have  en- 
riched the  long  day.  I  have  suffered  so,  as  child  of 
mine  shall  never  suffer — atheistical  fears  that  the  ill- 
timed  bounty  was  exhausted  with  my  tasting  only — 
pains  of  loss  before  I  had  realized  possession — fearful- 
ness  and  desponding  for  the  future,  while  I  could  but 
imperfectly  prize  the  joy  and  riches  of  the  present.  It 
is  not  so  now.  I  have  found  such  wealth  allotted  to 
womanhood — such  relations,  such  uses,  such  power ! 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAIiraD.  159 

Dear  Anna,  I  have  such  faith  in  God,  that  I  grow  old 
gladly.  I  know  he  will  not  stint  my  late  years,  and 
that  he  has  given  me  capacity  to  bless  myself  in  them 
beyond  the  most  fervent  imaginations  of  my  youth. 
It  moves  my  pity  to  see  a  woman  shrink  from  the 
touch  of  the  unrelenting  years.  What  hollowness  and 
poverty  of  heart  must  be  hers !  What  esuriences  must 
exclude  the  peacefulness  and  trust  which  ought  to  fill 
and  satisfy  her  soul !  What  littleness  of  desire  must 
contend  with  the  great  current  which  bears  her  irre- 
sistibly onward !  To  dread  to  grow  old,  to  shrink 
from  the  sum  of  the  years  already  past  and  to  look  on 
each  coming  one  as  an  enemy,  to  seek  by  poor  falsity 
to  make  their  number  seem  less — oh  !  it  is  very  pitiful, 
is  it  not  ?" 

"  It  is,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  am  glad  it  moves  you  so 
gently.  Better  pity  than  contempt  for  such  weakness, 
which  we  ought  to  grieve  at  rather  than  despise,  since 
the  whole  of  human  history  has  educated  us  to  feel 
that  our  power  is  in  our  personal  charms.  Take  youth 
and  beauty  from  a  woman,  and  you  disarm  her.  She 
appeals  only  to  the  high  and  grand  few  without  them." 

"  I  confess  it,  Anna,"  replied  my  friend ;  "  but  her 
lack  of  power  in  middle  and  advanced  life  comes  less 
from  her  having  lost  those  than  from  her  want  of  devel- 
opment— of  unselfish  loves — of  pure  and  rich  interior 
life.  Her  career  has  been  a  prolonged  struggle  to  keep 
what  God  has  desired  that  she  should  give  up.  She 
has  been  often  insincere — sometimes  ignoble — not  un- 
frequently  bitter  in  her  fruitless  efforts.  Her  defeats 
bring  her  hardness,  instead  of  tenderness  and  humility. 
She  loses  what  she  cannot  retain,  and  in  the  strife, 
becomes  that  dreaded  thing,  an  l  old  woman.'  Oh,  my 
heart  burns  with  rebellion  and  shame  at  what  that 


160  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

epithet  expresses!  As  if  God  created  us  to  decline 
from  admiration  to  contempt — from  power  to  puerility 
: — from  love  to  loathing.  I  honor  a  man  whose  hoary 
head  and  benignant  furrows  record  the  numerous  years 
of  a  well-spent  life ;  but  I  am  impelled  to  worship  a 
woman  whom  I  see  grow  old  and  wrinkled,  with  the 
radiance  of  a  warm,  sweet,  tender  soul  shining  out  of 
the  ruins  of  that  beauty  in  which  she  delighted  years 
ago.  I  rejoice  in  growing  old,  Anna.  The  hopes  of 
youth  may  fade  like  the  gorgeous  colors  of  that  evening 
sky.  Let  them.  I  know  that  a  good  and  loving  Fa- 
ther hath  furnished  higher  delights  for  every  succeed- 
ing period  :  a  harvest  sown  in  the  future,  to  be  reaped 
by  the  hand  that  is  faithful  in  the  present.  I  feel  that 
we  can  grow  gracefully  old  by  being  nobly  young." 

Col.  Anderson  had  approached  the  door  before  she 
ceased  speaking,  and  now  he  came  forward ;  and  while 
his  eyes  beamed  with  tender  admiration  upon  the 
speaker,  he  said :  "  The  air  is  delicious,  Miss  Warren, 
and  the  evening  promises  to  be  one  of  the  finest  we 
shall  ever  see.  Will  you  and  your  venerable  friend  " — 
bowing  to  her — "  walk  on  the  beach  ?  The  slight  rain 
has  set  free  the  odors  of  leaves  and  herbage,  and  the 
south  wind  is  coming  to  us  freighted  with  them,  sug- 
gesting memories  and  hopes  of  other  lands.  Will  you 
come?"  he  repeated,  looking  into  Eleanore's  dreamy 
eyes. 

We  rose  and  accompanied  him. 


CHAPTEE   XIX. 

The  tide  was  coming  in,  and  its  first  advancing 
waves  lapsed  and  died  in  soft  music  far  out  there  on 
the  brown  sand,  where  it  was  scarcely  distinguishable, 
by  the  faint  light,  from  the  waters  it  fronted.  There 
were  peculiar  influences  in  the  air,  in  the  sea,  on  the 
earth,  and  in  the  tinted  heavens,  on  that  glorious  even- 
ing— strong,  uplifting  influences,  which  took  hold  upon 
us,  and  made  our  silence  as  well  as  our  speech  expres- 
sive of  enlargement  and  emancipation — of  superiority 
to  the  external.  We  were  raised  as  by  a  beneficent 
and  potent  hand,  above  the  thraldom  of  circumstance. 

"  Only  to  live  in  an  hour  like  this,"  said  Col.  An- 
derson, "  is  blessing  sufficient  for  the  present  time — 
is  it  not  ?  One  cannot  look  in  the  face  of  the  Father 
and  ask  for  more." 

"  One  desires  no  more,"  she  replied  ;  "  because  all 
that  God  can  give  is  for  the  moment  ours.  The  capa- 
ble soul  escapes  its  limitations,  and  draws  so  near  to 
him,  that  its  emotions  and  intuitions  are  the  direct 
echoes  of  his  voice.  The  visible  and  the  Invisible 
meet,  and  our  spirits,  touched  as  with  fire  from  the  altar 
of  that  high  union,  bow  down  in  spontaneous  worship 
of  both.  The  electric  chords  of  harmony  which  bind 
the  universe,  are  swept  by  hands  of  the  Unseen,  and 
vibrate  from  soul  to  soul,  whereby  each  is,  for  the  time, 
made  part  of  the  Highest.  The  mourning  cannot 


162  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

mourn  now,  for  we  know  there  is  no  loss — no  death — 
but  only  transfer  to   fuller  life.     The  yearning  soul 
prays  and  becomes  wise  for  all  future  time.     We  ask 
for  the  beloved  and  gone,  and  we  are  told  that  the 
trees  and  the  grasses,  the  clouds  and  the  waters,  alike 
embody  the  form  we  have  lost.     Already  is  it  resolving 
into  all  shapes  of  life.     A  few  months,  and  it  shall  float 
in  the  lily  of  the  Ganges,  wave  in  the  cedars  of  Lebanon, 
or  make  green  this  barren  isle  of  refuge.     It  shall  pass, 
by  the  ever-working  law  of  life,  through  growth  and 
decay  ;  it  shall  rage  in  the  angry  ocean  or  gayly  deck 
the  couch  of  the  setting  sun  ;  it  shall  bloom  in  the  lux- 
uriance of  tropical  climes,  or  beautify  the  fair  gardens 
and  fields  of  our  more  temperate  lands ;  but  so,  as  the 
ages  lapse,  shall  it  pass  from  kingdom  to  kingdom  ;  and 
I  accept  joyfully  and  lovingly  the  forms  which  may 
contain  it,  because  so  hath  the  Wisest  and  Best  ap- 
pointed— that  life  shall  perpetuate  itself  in   change. 
Beyond  this,  I  only  crave  that  the  sweet  spirit  that 
blessed   me  here  shall  be  itself;  that  it  shall  grow  in 
identity  as  well   as   in  power   and  love,  and  that  on 
whatever  planes  of  life  we  may  hereafter  meet  or  part, 
my  child  shall  still  be  my  child.     And  can  one  question 
that  the  Love  and  Wisdom  which  have  created  order 
throughout  all  the  inferior  kingdoms,  will  extend  them 
to  the  highest  and  holiest  relations  of  the  future  world  ? 
Can  we  question  that  what  the  universal  soul  demands 
with  ceaseless  yearning,  for  its  vanished  idols,  will  be 
granted  to  it  ?" 

"  Doubtless  to  perpetuate  is  a  lesser  act  than  to 
create,"  said  I,  after  a  silence  of  some  moments.  "  We 
are  here,  and  we  find  ourselves  so  related  to  other  be- 
ings, that  nothing  but  their  own  and  our  immortality 
can  satisfy  us.  If  we  have  not  that,  the  larger  and 


THE   IDEAL  ATTAINED.  163 

nobler  the  life  is — the  more  heroic  and  worthy  in  all 
human  senses — the  greater  its  failure  in  this.  If  there 
is  not  a  future,  the  martyrs  have  been  fools  and  the 
wisest  and  best  souls  have  been  treated  as  children  who 
are  cheated  into  taking  some  nauseous  drug  by  a 
promised  reward  which  can  never  be  enjoyed." 

"  And  without  individuality  in  the  future,"  said 
Mrs.  Bromn'eld,  "  for  that  is  the  highest  we  can  re- 
ceive. I  ask  but  that  God  will  make  me  to  be  forever 
myself,  with  such  wisdom  and  love  as  he  has  shown  in 
my  creation,  endowment,  and  relations  to  him,  and  to 
the  world  without  me.  What  more  can  he  do  for  me 
than  thus  to  give  me  to  myself,  with  light  to  see  my 
way  ?" 

"And  power  to  choose  it,"  said  Col.  Anderson. 
"  That  is  part  of  the  gift,  I  think.  I  cannot  be  myself 
as  from  God,  without  a  certain  freedom,  which  must 
also  come  from  him.  But  do  you,  then,  reject  the  re- 
ceived belief  as  to  the  future  life  ?"  he  continued. 

"  Which  of  them  ?"  she  asked. 

"  That  of  the  most  enlightened  and  developed  por- 
tion of  our  race — the  Christian." 

"  I  certainly  reject  the  dogmas  that  are  taught  in 
the  name  of  Christianity.  Between  me  and  the  God 
who  made  me  I  can  see  nothing  but  an  open  path- 
way, which  I  shall  travel  slowly  or  rapidly  along,  as  my 
power — otherwise  all  the  conditions  that  help  or  hin- 
der me — will  permit.  What  I  do  not  gain  here,  I  shall 
hereafter,  in  that  progress ;  but  my  individuality  must 
remain  to  me  intact,  or  no  gain  or  loss  here  can  affect 
me  there." 

"  Your  opinions  are  somewhat  new  to  me,"  he  re- 
plied ;  "  I  have  not  for  many  years  been  where  ideas 
form  any  material  part  of  the  religious  teaching,  and 


164  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

I  have  only  heard  the  echo,  in  journals  and  private 
letters,  of  the  daring  analysis  which  you  Americans 
seem,  by  your  unsettled,  restless  natures,  specially 
fitted  to  push  on.  But  may  I  be  pardoned  a  question 
or  two  ?" 

"  Certainly,  if  they  call  only  for  my  personal  opin- 
ions," said  Eleanore.  I  know  no  system,  and  am 
attached  to  no  party.  Perhaps  in  my  own  belief 
would  even  be  found  inconsistencies,  if  it  were  fully 
sifted  through  the  web  of  testimony,  but  I  entertain  it 
as  a  religious,  hopeful,  trusting,  human  soul — not  as 
a  controversialist.  I  hold  it,  not  for  defense,  but 
growth,  my  dear  friend ;  and  so  I  hope  you  will  not 
expect  logic  where  you  will  find  only  earnestness ;  or 
theology,  where  you  will  find  only  love,  reason,  and 
faith." 

"  The  last,"  he  said,  "  are  what  I  should  particu- 
larly wish  to  find  ;  for,  outcast  as  I  have  so  long  been, 
I  have  heard  enough,  first  and  last,  of  theological 
statement  and  dispute,  not  to  desire  them  now,  and 
least  of  all,  from  you.  It  is  your  own  thought 
I  ask  for.  You  admit  the  universal  presence  of  sin, 
doubtless  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  its  origin  in  Eden  ?" 

"  No.  I  believe  nothing  so  trivial  and  arbitrary  of 
the  Being  whom  I  adore  as  supreme.  I  view  God  as 
the  One,  Loving,  and  Just,  and  man  as  his  creation ; 
iind  the  relation  between  them  as  being  to-day  what 
lie  intended  it  should  be — unchanged  from  his  original 
purpose  by  any  single  man  or  woman." 

"  Did  God,  then,  make  man  to  sin  ?" 

"  If  he  did,  would  not  that  be  better  than  making 
him  with  an  opposite  purpose,  and  having  to  sit  down 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  165 

at  the  very  beginning  defeated  ?  But  I  believe  that 
man  was  made  the  last  of  long  series  of  steps  in  the 
material  creation  ;  that  in  his  own  being  were  the 
latent  elements  of  the  highest  he  can  attain  to  in  the 
flesh  or  spirit ;  and  that  our  whole  existence  is  a 
career  of  development  of  those  powers,  sin  being  their 
unbalanced  and  discordant  action." 

"Are  we,  then,  freed  from  moral  responsibility?" 
"  My  dear  friend,  put  aside  the  theological  lens,  and 
look  at  man  as  a  normal  being,  sustaining  a  normal 
relation  to  God  and  the  external  world,  and  you  will, 
I  hope,  see  a  higher  and  purer  and  more  invariable 
law  of  responsibility  than  that  arbitrary  one,  which 
represents  our  beloved  Father  as  dealing  with  us  on 
the  same  terms  that  a  fallible  and  passionate  human 
parent  would.  Our  responsibility  for  sin  is  as  inflexi- 
ble and  inescapable  as  any  law  of  God.  It  is  the  rela- 
tion of  cause  and  effect,  which  is  never  broken." 
"  Then  God's  dealing  with  us  is  never  punitive  ?" 
"  I  think  it  is  never  so  in  the  human  or  common 
sense  of  that  term.  It  is,  nevertheless,  punitive  in  a 
strict  sense,  because  all  wrong  inevitably  punishes  it- 
self in  the  most  lamentable  and  mournful  way — in 
stifling  and  choking  the  glorious  power  that  would 
grow  in  us  from  right  willing  and  doing.  And  in  this 
sense  there  is  no  pity  so  profound  and  Godlike  as  that 
we  feel  over  the  sinner — the  self-abusive  soul  that 
gropes  noisily  along  in  error  or  degradation,  uncon- 
scious that  it  is  buried  in  midnight  darkness  or  wrapped 
in  chilling  mists,  where  the  pure  sunlight  of  love  and 
truth  can  never  warm  and  cheer  it." 

"  And  do  such  souls,  holding  their  evil  way  down 
to  the  grave,  go  on  through  eternity  as  they  have 
through  time  ?"  he  asked. 


166  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  Oil !  do  not  impeach  the  love  of  our  Father  by 
such  a  suggestion,"  she  answered,  reverently.  "  Have 
you  ever  seen  a  man  so  wicked  and  cruel,  that,  at  all 
times  and  for  every  moment  of  three  score  and  ten 
years,  he  would  deliberately  hold  in  torment  even  his 
personal  enemy — him  only  who  had  conceived  and 
done  him  harm?  Have  you  ever  met  a  perverted  hu- 
man spirit  so  perverted  as  that  ?  You  will  answer  no, 
I  am  sure.  Then  how  can  we  attribute  to  our  God 
such  an  inconceivable  cruelty  and  tyranny  ?  I  believe 
there  is  but  one  law  of  progress,  and  that  is  progress 
toward  good." 

"  But  it  is  often  palpably  reversed  among  those  who 
surround  us,"  said  Col.  Anderson. 

"  True,"  answered  Eleanore ;  "  but  we  judge  all  sin 
from  its  outward  and  material  effects.  There  are 
many  wrong-doers,  I  have  no  doubt,  who  attain  true 
spiritual  growth  while  we  are  concluding  their  ruin 
and  utter  condemnation.  The  history  of  the  illustri- 
ous shows  us  many  Pauls  and  Bunyans,  and  we  know 
not  how  many  humbler  souls  are  born  into  purer 
life  by  the  keen,  consuming  repentance  which  follows 
their  transgressions.  Then,  too,  we  may  consider  that 
our  earth-life  is  but  a  flash  of  morning  light  ushering 
in  the  long  day  of  being.  And  though  we  may  per- 
versely turn  our  faces  from  it  through  all  the  years,  yet 
it  is  not  darkness  because  we  do  so.  The  light  is  here 
for  every  human  eye  and  soul,  and  it  still  exists  in  un- 
diminished  fullness  and  glory,  though  some  refuse  for 
a  time  to  see  it.  By-and-by  it  will  touch  them  with 
gladness,  for  relations  are  changeable,  but  creations 
remain — until  they  are  replaced  by  higher,  but  never 
by  lower  ones.  I  believe  not  only  that  death  is  no 
termination  to  us,  but  that  it  ushers  us  into  a  future 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  167 

which  is  strictly  and  inevitably  consequent  upon  our 
present  life.  There  the  sensualist,  cut  off  from  his  ac- 
customed and  cherished  pleasures,  will  find,  in  the 
wretchedness  of  his  lot,  a  necessity  to  seek  other  enjoy- 
ments ;  there  the  malignant  and  hating  will  be  deprived 
of  much  of  the  power  they  have  possessed  here  to  grat- 
ify their  exaggerated  passions;  there  the  selfish  and 
mean  will  find  no  possessions  to  covet,  and  no  advan- 
tage to  be  gained  by  baseness  ;  there  the  ignorant  and 
darkened  souls  will  see  a  little  more  clearly  than 
through  the  curtain  of  the  flesh  ;  and  there  the  merci- 
ful, the  wise,  the  pure  and  the  loving,  will  find  abund- 
ant occupation  for  the  powers  they  have  developed 
here.  That  is  a  rude,  poor  sketch  of  my  heaven,  dear 
friends,  and  it  will  not  much  matter  what  articles  of 
faith  we  adopt,  if  only  we  adopt  them,  and  do  Godlike 
work  from  Godlike  motives  and  aspirations ;  we  shall 
reach  it  some  day." 

"  God  grant  it !"  ejaculated  the  Colonel,  earnestly. 
"  You  are  rising  to  go ;  and  indeed  it  is  time ;  but  I 
could  wish  for  another  hour  on  this  theme." 

"  I  fear  we  shall  have  more  of  them  here  than  we 
shall  wish  to  occupy  thus,  Col.  Anderson,"  was  her 
reply ;  "  but  in  any  case,  enough,  probably,  to  enable 
us  to  discuss  these  matters  as  fully  as  you  may  wish. 
How  calm  is  the  ocean  !  and  what  a  majestic  reign  is 
yonder  golden  cross  holding  in  the  still  blue  deeps  of 
the  air !  Oh !  that  we  were  at  sea,  with  the  hope  that 
would  then  be  before  us  !" 

"  But  how  sacred,  dear  friend,  with  all  our  impa- 
tience of  its  limits,  will  this  little  isle  be  to  us  ever- 
more !"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  Col.  Anderson,  "  not  only  for  what  we 
shall  leave  here,  but  for  what  we  shall — some  of  us,  at 


168  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

least — take  away  from  it :  higher  hopes,  clearer  pur- 
poses, and  larger  views.  How  many  wasted  years  I 
can  look  back  upon  !" 

"  I  know  not  what  years  your  memory  may  be  stored 
with,  and  therefore  speak  not  to  your  individual  expe- 
rience," said  Mrs.  Bromfield  ;  "  but  I  think  no  year 
is  misspent  that  carries  us  a  year  further  into  true  man- 
or womanhood ;  that  records  accession  of  strength,  a 
fuller  completeness  of  character,  growth  in  true  ideas 
— whether  drawn  from  the  forest,  the  jungle,  or  the 
ocean— a  truer  perception  of  the  Divine,  and  a  more 
merciful,  loving  relation  to  the  human.  If  we  had 
ever  a  clear  standard  of  character  before  us,  and  by 
steady  approaches  neared  that  through  all  experiences, 
the  fret  and  toil  of  life  would  fall  away  beneath  us,  as 
the  desolate  raging  of  that  sea  is  stilled  to-night  below 
the  tranquil  moon  and  everlasting  stars." 


CHAPTEE   XX. 

We  had  walked  past  the  tent,  and  were  near  to  the 
graves.  Col.  Anderson  led  us,  as  with  a  purpose,  to 
them.  "  I  knew,  my  dear  friend,"  he  said,  "  that  you 
were  strong  enough  to  come  here  to-night  without  pain, 
and  see  what  Antonio,  with  a  little  help  from  me  and 
the  carpenter,  has  done." 

And  there  we  stood  before  a  very  neat  slab  of  brown- 
stone,  erected  at  Harry's  head.  It  must  have  been  of 
the  softest,  certainly,  for  by  the  light  of  the  rising  moon 
and  the  aid  of  my  fingers,  I  read  this  inscription,  in  well- 
shaped  letters : 

"H.  B. 

OBIT  APRIL  — ,  185 — . 
JiJtat  7  years." 

"  Poor  Antonio  !"  she  said ;  and  turned  away,  step- 
ping slowly  up  the  slope,  toward  the  signal-staff. 

I  knew  her  tears  were  flowing,  and  I  took  Col.  An- 
derson's arm,  and  led  him  away  to  the  other  side  of  the 
hillock,  that  we  might  leave  her  alone  for  a  little  space. 
We  were  but  a  few  yards  away,  separated  by  the  little 
hight,  and  were  walking  silently  along  on  the  noiseless 
sand,  when  I  heard  her  voice. 

We  both  turned  instantly,  and  hurried  toward  her, 
alarmed.     "  I  thought  she  was  stronger,"  said  my  com- 
panion, "  or  I  should  not  have  brought  her  here." 
8 


170  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

And  the  next  words  we  heard,  as  we  rose  to  the  top 
and  looked  out  to  sea,  in  the  direction  of  her  hand, 
were :  "  A  ship !  a  ship  !" 

I  thought  she  had  been  mistaken,  for  I  could  see 
nothing ;  and  Col.  Anderson  looked  very  steadily  a 
full  minute  before  he  confirmed  her  words.  "  Where  ?" 
I  asked  of  her,  for  he  was  already  gone  to  the  tents. 

"  There  !  very  far  away  it  looks,  but  I  see  it  dis- 
tinctly in  the  moonlight ;  and  we  shall  hail  it,  Miss 
Warren,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  quiet  assurance  that 
both  surprised  and  gladdened  me.  "It  must  have 
been  shown  me,"  she  continued.  "  I  was  not  looking 
for  it.  I  think  I  could  not  see  it  now  except  it  had 
been  shown  me.  I  was  leaning  against  the  staff,  look- 
ing down  on  the  surf  here,  close  in  shore,  when  it 
seemed  to  be  said  to  me,  in  a  voiceless  speech,  i  There 
is  a  ship  which  will  come  to  you  ;'  and  I  knew  where 
to  look  for  it  when  I  raised  my  eyes,  though  they  were 
dim  with  tears.  We  shall  go  now,  dear  Anna." 

What  irrepressible  joy  I  felt !  I  was  so  light,  that 
I  could  have  risen  and  danced,  with  the  sudden  elasti- 
city of  my  spirit.  There  was  a  noise  and  rush  from 
the  tents — a  shouting  and  hurrying — a  calling  for  fire 
and  guns ;  and  on  they  all  came — all  but  good,  patient 
Antonio,  who  had  been  left  early  in  the  evening  to 
watch  Phil.  It  was  now  past  midnight,  and  when 
Mrs.  Bromfield  and  I  hurried  to  the  tent,  there  sat  the 
creature,  looking  like  a  wild  deer  caught  and  hopelessly 
fettered. 

"  Go,  Antonio,"  said  Eleanore ;  "  go,  and  make  all 
the  noise  you  can  ;  and  when  she  answers,  come  and 
tell  us." 

He  was  off  like  the  swift  wind.  There  was  already 
a  fire  kindled  on  the  summit  of  the  elevation ;  there 


THE    IDEAL,   ATTAINED.  171 

had  been  two  gun-shots,  and  tremendous  shouts  follow- 
ing each ;  then  a  long  silence  and  breathless  listening 
for  a  returning  signal.  But  none  came. 

"  Once  more,  boys !"  we  heard  Mr.  Watkins  say,  in 
his  hearty  tones ;  "  all  together,  now  !"  and  there  was 
another  peal,  closing  simultaneously  with  another  gun- 
iire  ;  then  silence  again  :  and  slowly  and  heavily  there 
came,  at  last,  over  the  water,  the  boom  of  a  cannon. 
I  heard  that,  and  I  remember  feeling  a  sinking  and 
darkness  come  over  me  after  it,  and  nothing  more  till 
I  saw  dear  Eleanore's  smiling  face  above  mine,  and 
found  my  hair  lying  wet  upon  cheeks  and  throat. 

"  Dear,  foolish  child,"  she  said,  when  I  opened  my 
eyes  ;  "  why  did  you  faint  ?  I  told  you  the  ship  would 
be  hailed ;  and  only  that  joy  seldom  kills  the  strong  in 
soul,  I  should  have  been  frightened — you  have  been  so 
long  gone." 

"  Well,  here  I  am  now,"  I  said,  raising  myself  on 
her  arm ;  "and  the  shock  of  gladness  is  past.  Kiss  me, 
dear  friend,  for  I  am  weak-hearted  to-night,  and  must 
have  some  of  your  strength,  or  I  shall  make  a  fool  of 
myself  at  last,  and  cry,  I  do  believe."  And  in  spite 
of  her  caresses  and  kind  words,  the  tears  did  force 
their  way  from  my  eyes. 

"  Do  not  check  them,"  she  said ;  "  there  will  be 
sturdier  cheeks  than  these  soft  ones  wet  to-night.  But 
I  am  not  in  the  mood  for  tears.  Tears  of  men  and 
women  must  flow,  I  think,  from  unmixed  emotions, 
such  as  yours,  which  is  one  of  simple  and  unclouded 
joy.  I  do  not  feel  that,  and  my  tears  will  be  more 
likely  to  spring  when  I  lift  my  foot  for  the  last  time 
from  this  consecrated  bit  of  earth." 

Col.  Anderson  came — as  pale  as  either  of  us,  and 
more  breathless.  "  She  has  answered  us,"  he  said, 


172  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  and,  beyond  a  doubt,  will  come  in.  Mr.  Watkins  is 
launching  and  manning  his  boat,  and  will  go  outside 
the  reef  to  speak  her." 

"You  have  no  anxiety  about  her  coming,  have 
you  ?"  said  Mrs.  Bromfield,  approaching  him  where  he 
sat,  looking  very  white. 

"  I  cannot  deny  that  I  have  a  little,"  he  replied ; 
"  some  seamen  are  savages  in  their  nature — brute  in- 
stead of  human  ;  but  he  answered  us  so  promptly,  that 
I  cannot  really  fear  he  will  behave  ill  now." 

"  You  are  all  too  much  moved,  my  dear  friends," 
said  Mrs.  Bromfield.  "  Here  has  Miss  Warren  actually 
fainted,  and  but  that  your  manhood  would  scorn  the 
imputation  of  such  weakness,  I  should  say  you  look  as 
like  that  as  possible  yourself." 

He  turned  his  eyes  upon  her,  and  his  lips  moved, 
but  no  sound  came  forth. 

"  Bring  me  some  water,  Miss  Warren,  quickly  !" 
and  she  received  his  drooping  head  in  her  arms,  and 
lifted  the  dampened  hair  from  his  bloodless  brow. 
"  What  can  ail  you  all  to-night,  to  be  going  on  in  this 
way  ?"  she  said,  bathing  his  temples,  while  she  ordered 
me  to  prepare  some  ignatia.  "  Here  is  our  famous 
lion-hunter,"  she  continued,  blushing,  as  his  eyes 
opened  and  looked  into  hers,  from  her  shoulder,  where 
his  head  rested ;  and  then  she  added,  mercilessly : 
"  Take  a  spoonful  of  that  medicine,  Miss  Warren, 
yourself,  and  bring  the  rest  to  me,  for  this  patient !" 

"  Say  the  sauciest  words  you  like  to,  madam,"  he 
said,  raising  himself  up  with  difficulty.  "I  admit 
that  a  man  deserves  the  worst  a  woman's  wit  can 
invent,  when  he  so  far  gives  up  his  self-control  as  to 
faint  in  her  presence.  If  I  had  hastened  away " 

"  You  would  have  hurt  me  so  much,  that  I  fear  I 
should  never,  never  have  forgiven  3-011,  my  dear 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  173 

friend,"  said  Eleanore,  quickly ;  "  whereas  you,  with 
all  your  magnanimity,  will  at  at  once  forgive  my  un- 
feeling words — will  you  not  ?"  and  she  offered  him  her 
hand,  with  large,  glistening  eyes  fixed  on  his. 

He  took  it,  and  raised  it  to  his  lips  in  silence. 

"  That,"  she  said,  "  is  a  piece  of  world's  politeness 
which  may  mean  much  or  little.  Is  there  no  way  in 
which  I  can  win  back  what  I  lost  by  those  idle  words  ? 
I  would  not  have  you  think  me  unfeeling  for  the  world. 
I  am  not  so  ;  but  it  is  one  of  the  vices  of  my  tongue, 
rather  than  my  heart,  that  I  seem  to  be  at  times  ;  and 
I  did  wish,"  she  added,  with  a  daring  frankness  in  her 
face  and  eyes,  as  well  as  her  speech,  "  to  bury  the  idea 
of  position  in  sound." 

"  In  other  words,"  he  replied,  now  thoroughly  him- 
self again,  "  you  wished  I  should  remain  as  I  had  been, 
for  the  moment,  unconscious  of  my  resting-place  ?" 

"  Frankly,  yes." 

"  Then  believe  that  I  am  entirely  so." 

"  It  is  enough,"  she  said,  and  loosed  her  hand,  which 
he  still  retained.  "  I  offered  you  a  remedy  for  faint- 
ness,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  a  glass  of  this  wine 
would  be  of  more  service  ;"  and  she  produced  the  bot- 
tle from  which  some  had  been  poured  for  herself,  and 
afterward  for  Mrs.  Farley.  "  I  am  sorry  it  was 
broached  some  days  ago  for  a  less  worthy  person  " — 
meaning  herself — "  but  it  may  have  some  virtue  yet." 

Pie  drank  the  cup  she  offered  him,  and  then, 
rising,  said :  "  Come,  let  us  go  out,  and  see  what 
our  prospect  is." 

It  was  now  half-past  two,  and  the  moon  as  good, 
the  sailors  said,  as  daylight,  for  boarding  the  ship. 
We  walked  with  the  Colonel  up  to  the  Signal,  and 
there  he  loaded  and  discharged  Mr.  Garth's  rifle  again. 
The  sound  went  rolling  over  the  still  water,  and  after 


174  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

it  had  almost  died  away  in  the  soft,  distant  airs,  an 
answering  shot  came. 

"  We  are  sure  of  him,  now,"  said  he.  "  He  is 
nearer  than  he  was,  and  must  be  standing  very  close 
to  the  wind."  As  yet  I  could  scarcely  see  any  change 
in  the  appearance  of  our  welcome  visitor.  The  white 
spot  was  a  little  more  visible,  but  it  seemed  hardly 
distinguishable  from  a  cloud  floating  low  on  the  water. 
"While  we  were  gazing  anxiously  toward  rather  than 
upon  her,  we  heard  the  shout,  "  There  she  goes,"  which 
announced  that  the  boat  was  afloat,  and  very  shortly 
the  dip  of  the  oars,  a  sweeter  music  to  us  than  Paga- 
nini  or  Ole  Bull  ever  discoursed.  Mrs.  Bromfield  and 
I  now  repaired  to  the  tent  "  to  pack" — not  a  formidable 
business,  certainly,  and  one  wherein  we  had  respect 
rather  to  time-honored  usage  than  necessity.  Poor 
little  Harry's  things  as  they  came  in  hand !  alas,  they 
were  few  enough  ;  but  the  pain  they  cost,  how  dreadful 
that  was.  How  the  hope  and  excitement  of  the  hour 
laded  from  her  face,  before  those  dumb  witnesses — 
little  gowns,  and  shirts,  and  trowsers,  with  the  name 
Harry  written  on  some  noticeable  outside  part,  and 
one  dark  warm  suit  that  had  been  kept  for  colder  lati- 
tudes when  we  should  reach  them. 

Tell  me  of  any  agony  bitterer  than  that  of  a  mother 
in  such  an  hour.  Tell  me  of  heroism  greater  than  that 
which  firmly  closes  and  clasps  this  suffering  heart 
against  expression.  Yet  I  was  glad  to  see  the  still 
tears  fall,  thick  and  fast,  among  the  sacred  garments 
as  they  were  laid  away.  She  had  come  now  to  the 
simple  emotion  of  grief,  and  it  was  wholesome  she 
should  weep. 


CHAPTEE   XXI. 

When  everything  was  finished,  we  sat  down  to 
wait ;  and  Eleanore  said,  "  Since  last  we  filled  these 
trunks  we  have  lived  enough  for  an  ordinary  life-time. 
I  cannot  get  it  all  as  one  whole  before  my  mind — the 
wreck,  the  escape,  the  boat-voyage — what  a  terror 
that  was  to  me  because  of  the  boys — the  landing,  the 
happy  days  before  I  lost  him,  and  the  terrible  ones 
since.  When  I  think  along  the  course  of  all  these 
events,  I  feel  that  the  Tempest  must  have  been  gone 
years  instead  of  weeks,  and  that  we  must  be  grown 
old  people,  dear,  since  the  cheerful,  peaceful  days  we 
spent  on  her.  And  where  are  we  going  now  ?"  I  asked. 
"  This  vessel  may  be  bound  to  China  or  Australia  instead 
of  eastward." 

"  Yes,  it  may ;  but  it  does  not  seem  to  me  proba- 
ble. Do  you  know  I  believe  its  being  near  us  was 
revealed  to  me  by  the  same  means  that  Harry's  death 
was  foreshadowed  to  him  ?  I  was  not  looking  for  or 
thinking  at  that  moment  of  a  vessel ;  and  I  believe  if 
any  person  had  told  me  there  was  one  there,  I  could 
not  have  seen  it  at  that  distance,  by  the  faint  light ; 
but  when  I  lifted  my  eyes  I  knew  exactly  where  to 
look  for  it,  and  just  how  it  appeared.  Harry,"  she 
continued,  her  voice  growing  husky  and  low,  "  saw  his 
father  twice  after  we  left  the  ship ;  but  it  did  not  affect 
him  then  as  it  did  the  first  time,  so  I  said  nothing  to 


176  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

you  about  it ;  but  I  ought  to  have  known  that  he  was 
going  to  him  when  he  was  so  firmly  impressed  with 
the  idea  himself." 

"Was  he?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  you  remember  his  appearance  that  last  night, 
and  his  whispering  to  me  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  he  told  me  then  he  had  seen  his  father,  and 
was  going  to  him  soon.  Our  wreck  and  subsequent 
safety  enabled  me  day  by  day  as  we  came  along,  to 
dismiss  the  fearful  thought  from  my  own  mind  in  a 
measure,  and  partly  to  overcome  it  in  his;  but  two 
nights  before  we  reached  land,  he  woke  in  the  dark 
and  whispered  me  again  the  same  thing,  and  also  here, 
in  the  tent,  the  second  morning  before  his  death. 
Dear  child,  he  was  not  alarmed  the  last  time  ;  for  he 
trusted  firmly  in  me  and  my  assurance  that  it  was 
only  a  dream.  If  so  terrible  an  experience  should  ever 
again  be  mine,  I  should  open  a  view  of  the  future  to 
the  child,  and  endeavor  to  prepare  him  for  the  change 
by  familiarizing  his  mind  with  the  beauty  of  that 
world — the  pure  joys — the  love — the  tenderness  that 
await  him  there.  I  should  give  him  the  thought  that 
to  die  was  only  to  go  to  a  pleasanter  home  in  a  world 
as  real  as  this.  I  should  feel  less  pain  now  if  I  had 
treated  Harry  so." 

"  He  has  gone  very  noble  and  pure,"  I  said.  "  I  can 
not  imagine  a  higher  character  in  so  young  a  child. 
Whatever  the  inherent  power  of  that  gift  in  coloring 
the  immediate  destiny  of  the  future,  he  will  have  all 
that  could  belong  to  so  immature  a  spirit." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  replied,  "  he  was  born  noble. 
There  was  not  a  base  atom  in  him.  His  father  was 
pure,  and  conscientious,  and  loving.  My  children 
could  not  be  ignoble,  Miss  Warren." 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  177 

"I  well  believe  you,"  I  rejoined  "as  my  know- 
ledge of  you  entitles  me  to.  It  is  a  growing  belief,  I 
think,  that  character  is,  in  the  main,  more  likely  to  be 
derived  from  the  mother  than  the  father.  I  fully  enter- 
tain it  myself;  so  fully  that  if  I  were  offered  the  choice 
of  a  lot  in  life,  I  would  rather  be  born  of  some  mothers, 
in  right  circumstances  to  give  their  natural  powers 
harmonious  play  and  use,  than  Empress  of  all  the 
Russias.  Your  children  are  eminently  blessed  in  this 
respect,  my  dear  friend,  and,  so  far  as  a  mother's  grief 
can  be  mitigated  by  such  a  thought,  I  hope  it  will 
comfort  your  heart  in  the  sad  and  heavy  hours  before 
you." 

"  There  is  great  and  noble  consolation  in  it,  Miss 
Warren,  when  one  can  claim  it.  It  is  a  Godlike  joy 
to  know  that  the  being  derived  from  our  own  is  not 
vitiated  or  enfeebled  by  any  act  of  ours;  that  the 
health  and  power  which  we  have  inherited,  fortunate 
if  they  were  in  generous  measure,  we  have  transmitted 
to  them,  enlarged  and  strengthened  by  worthy  use.  Oh, 
not  for  worlds  w^ould  I  have  it  now  to  remember  that  I 
had  ever  deliberately,  or  consciously,  or  ignorantly,  if 
the  ignorance  were  not  unavoidable,  done  an  act  that 
could  diminish  my  power  and  value  to  my  children  as 
their  mother." 

We  were  interrupted  by  a  distant  shot  apparently 
from  over  the  water,  and  stepping  outside,  were  joined 
by  Mr.  Garth  and  the  Colonel,  with  the  glad  tidings 
that  the  boat  and  ship  had  spoken  each  other ;  for  the 
shot  which  was  to  be  the  signal  of  that  event  had  just 
been  fired.  What  intense  and  peaceful  gladness  we 
felt  at  every  new  assurance  that  deliverance  had  come. 
Both  the  gentlemen  asked  for  Phil,  as  they  had  before, 


ITS  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

anxious  each  to  communicate  the  glad  tidings  to  him 
that  the  long  expected  big  ship  had  come  at  last. 

But  his  mother,  prudent  of  excitements  and  loss  of 
sleep,  objected  to  rousing  him  till  the  boat  should 
return.  So  alternately,  we  sat  and  walked,  and  talked 
and  were  silent,  till  the  banner  of  the  coming  day 
shook  out  its  gorgeous  folds  in  the  eastern  sky,  and 
the  great  round  moon  began  to  fade,  in  the  growing 
light,  before  the  oars  came  dipping  in  the  still  water 
within  the  reef.  There  had  been  telegraphing  by 
shouts  between  the  men  aboard  and  ashore,  but  now 
here  they  were,  and  our  companions  left  us  to  get  the 
news. 

"From  Hong  Kong,  bound  to  Callao,"  was  the 
report,  "  three  passengers  on  board,  and  our  accommo- 
dations very  indifferent  for  you,  ladies,"  said  the  good 
natured  first  officer  as  he  was  introduced  to  us  by  Mr. 
Watkins ;  "  but  we  will  do  our  best  for  you.  You  will 
not  be  difficult,  I  dare  say,  after  all  you  have  gone 
through." 

We  assured  him  it  was  needless  to  take  thought  for 
us  in  these  respects.  We  were  too  thankful  for  the 
escape  to  consider  the  manner  or  comfort  of  it. 

The  orders  were  now  to  get  ready  for  the  boat. 
"  The  freight  first,  and  the  people  next,"  Mr.  Wat- 
kins  said.  There  was  something  almost  melancholy, 
like  the  rude  breaking  up  of  a  home,  in  the  haste  and 
confusion  with  which  the  place  we  had  lived  in  was 
deserted,  and  the  things  displaced  that  had  made  us 
call  it  home. 

Phil  was  roused,  and  in  the  joyous  hurry,  as  neither 
Antonio  nor  Ching  could  be  spared  to  dip  him  in  the 
surf,  the  Colonel  took  him,  and  when  he  came  back 
delivered  him,  a  very  little  Cupid,  to  his  mother,  to  be 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  179 

dressed ;  when  lie  was  "  to  doe  wiz  Tnrnel,"  he  said, 
"  to  the  big-big  ship."  Trunks  were  carried  away,  sail- 
cloths gathered  up,  tables  recklessly  knocked  down, 
and  tents  struck  ;  some  full  casks  of  stores  were  rolled 
to  the  beach ;  Ching's  utensils  hustled  into  an  empty 
one ;  and  at  last,  with  infinite  shouting  and  heartiness, 
the  first  boat  was  off.  The  remaining  one,  which  Mr. 
Watkins  had  ordered  launched,  was  next  got  into  the 
water,  and  by  the  time  the  sun  was  a  hand's  breadth 
above  the  horizon,  the  other  had  returned  and  we  were 
all  afloat,  Phil  in  a  state  of  intense  satisfaction,  at 
leaving  "  that  bad  little  land,"  as  he  said,  and  his  silent 
mother  divided  between  joy  in  going  and  pain  for  what 
was  left.  How  white  and  steadfast  was  her  counte- 
nance, how  dim  her  yearning  eye,  as  she  watched  the 
receding  land,  where  she  was  leaving  forever  that 
precious  dust.  How  protecting  the  form  and  face  at 
her  side. 

It  had  been  to  me  also  a  heartfelt  experience, 
but  so  crowded  and  confused,  that  I  could  not  then 
review  it.  There  was  a  future  too  to  think  of — a 
startling  one,  if  I  were  to  be  landed  thus  destitute 
among  strangers  in  a  foreign  country,  whose  language 
I  could  not  speak,  with  only  the  few  garments  I  had 
saved  for  the  naked  necessities  of  peril.  Truly  there 
was  much  to  be  considered  in  the  future  as  well  as 
the  past. 

The  vessel  we  were  approaching  was  the  bark 
Garonne,  scarcely  half  the  size  of  our  noble  ship^  and 
looking  so  much  less  beautiful  on  the  water,  that  grate- 
ful, devoutly  grateful  as  I  felt  for  her  presence,  I  could 
not  avoid  contrasting  them.  The  mate  told  us  they 
had  seen  our  fire  first,  and  was  not  a  little  amused  at 
the  idea  of  the  men  shouting  so  vehemently,  when  a 


180  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

rifle-shot,  lie  said  would  be  heard  over  that  smooth 
sea  at  least  six  miles.  "  They  liked  it,"  said  Mr.  Wat- 
kins,  "  and  I  think  you  would,  too,  if  you  had  been 
in  our  places." 

We  were  very  courteously  received  by  Captain 
Dahlgren  and  his  passengers  and  crew.  The  small 
after-cabin  which  he  occupied  contained  three  state- 
rooms beside  his  own,  which  their  occupants  vied  with 
each  other  in  their  zeal  of  resigning  to  us.  They  were 
quickened  to  every  imaginable  sacrifice  at  sight  of  Mrs. 
Bromfield  and  Phil,  who  walked  about  in  a  lordly 
contempt  of  his  poor  surroundings,  and  in  spite  of  his 
mother's  constant  watchfulness,  did  more  than  once 
give  broken  utterance  to  disparaging  comparisons  be- 
tween this  and  his  "  big  fine  ship ;"  for  our  lamented 
Captain,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us,  had  inflated  his  young 
soul,  occasionally,  by  speaking  of  the  Tempest  as  his 
ship,  so  that  he  now  felt  himself  injured  by  the  ex- 
change which  had  been  made  without  his  choice. 

Captain  Dahlgren  was  a  Swede — an  educated  man, 
who  spoke  our  language,  as  well  as  the  French  and 
Spanish,  very  purely,  but  with  a  strong  accent.  He 
was  a  gentleman,  with  much  of  the  manner  of  the  old 
school  about  him,  and  when  he  gave  us  courteous 
"  good  morning  "  at  the  table,  with  a  friendly  clasp  of 
the  hand,  there  was  that  in  the  ceremony  which  made 
the  place  brighter  and  more  cheerful  around  us.  For- 
tune had  behaved  liberally  in  sending  him  to  our 
release. 

His  passengers  were,  a  corpulent  German  of  the 
middle  class,  who  smoked  and  drank  beer  assiduously, 
but  was  good-natured,  and  two  English  gentlemen, 
both  old  residents  of  China,  and  men  considerably  past 
the  middle  period  of  life.  The  earnestness  with  which 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  181 

they  insisted  upon  placing  us  at  once  in  possession  of 
their  comfortable  rooms,  and  making  over  for  our  use 
their  boxes  of  bed-linen,  towels,  soaps,  and  other  per- 
sonal comforts,  really  touched  our  hearts.  We  would 
gladly  have  deprived  them  of  but  one  room,  leaving 
the  other  for  their  joint  use,  and  making  a  temporary 
bed  for  Phil ;  but  Mr.  Hart  protested  that  he  could 
not  remain  on  such  terms,  and  Mr.  Mackay  declared 
that  he  should  esteem  himself  unworthy  the  name  of 
gentleman,  if,  after  all  our  trials,  he  could  selfishly 
appropriate  to  his  own  comfort  any  accommodation 
that  would  contribute  to  ours.  With  a  slight  tendency 
to  pomposity  in  words  and  to  make  set  speeches,  with 
his  hand  on  the  well-filled  organ  that  lay  just  below 
his  heart — a  mistake  which  doubtless  originated  in  the 
negligence  or  ignorance  of  his  anatomical  instructors — 
this  gentleman  did,  if  it  must  be  confessed,  often  amuse 
us,  though  he  never  forfeited  our  gratitude  and  respect 
in  doing  it. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

Mrs.  Bromfield  was  at  once,  notwithstanding  the 
sadness  which  overpowered  and  suppressed  her, 
assigned  her  natural  position  here,  as  everywhere  else. 
Nature  claimed  it  for  her,  when  she  did  not  for  herself, 
and  enforced  the  claim  in  all  hearts.  They  laid  their 
homage  at  her  feet  in  silent  deeds  when  words  were  in- 
appropriate. And  even  her  suffering,  pallid  face,  did 
sometimes  relax  into  a  smile  when  Mr.  Mackay,  with 
his  right  hand  disposed  as  I  have  said,  his  left  thrust 
gracefully  beneath  his  coat-skirts,  and  his  large  round 
spectacles  looking  up  to  heaven  from  the  top  of  his 
head,  as  if  to  attest  the  fervor  with  which  he  spoke, 
stood  before  her  to  deliver  himself  of  some  speech  or 
sentiment  wherewith  his  heart  was  big  at  that  moment. 

"  The  original  Pickwick,  Miss  Warren,"  she  said, 
in  a  whisper,  one  day  after  he  had  bowed  himself  out 
gravely  from  one  of  these  performances ;  "a  little 
thinned  by  the  anxieties  and  perils  of  foreign  travel, 
but  with  not  a  spark  of  his  gallantry  extinguished. 
Seriously,  we  are  most  fortunate  to  find  people  so  kind, 
agreeable,  and  altogether  satisfactory." 

Phil  was  a  treasure  from  stem  to  stern  of  the  Garonne. 
Captain,  officers,  passengers,  and  crew,  welcomed  and 
petted  him,  till,  with  all  his  unconsciousness,  he  was 
in  imminent  peril — so  Eleanore  and  I  thought — of  be- 
ing brought  to  need  discipline  ;  not  that  he  grew  per- 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  183 

verse  or  forward  ;  but  we  felt  rather  than  saw  that  a 
child  could  not  bear  such  constant  deferring  to  without 
being  made  willful  and  exacting. 

Of  our  fellow-sufferers  we  saw  little  more  than  of 
our  new-found  friends.  Mr.  Garth  rarely  entered  the 
cabin  we  occupied,  and  Col.  Anderson,  while  bestow- 
ing every  attention  and  kindness  which  our  situation 
demanded  from  him,  as  carefully  withheld  every  possi- 
ble expression  of  more  than  that.  Knowing  his  im- 
pulsive nature  as  I  did,  and  how  his  whole  being 
hungered  for  the  sound  of  her  voice  and  the  spoken 
word  that  should  recognize  him  as  in  some  relation 
nearer  than  that  of  a  stranger,  I  wondered  daily  at  his 
extreme  and  successful  restraint  of  himself. 

There  was  little  opportunity  for  private  conversa- 
tion among  us.  The  after-deck  of  the  Garonne  was 
small,  and  encumbered  with  two  boats,  and  if  we  took 
the  main-deck,  as  we  were  obliged  to,  for  our  walks, 
we  were  never  without  near  neighbors  or  companions. 
This  was  the  more  annoying  to  me,  because,  in  all  the 
confidences  which  had  been  between  Eleanore  and  my- 
self, neither  of  us  had  communicated  to  the  other  the 
purpose  which  had  led  to  this  voyage.  Before  the 
days  of  our  misfortune  came,  she,  calm,  self-centered, 
and  self-contained,  had  never  leant  to  the  personal  in 
our  conversations.  That  was  a  world  by  itself,  lying 
deep  within — always  interesting  me,  because  never 
displayed ;  always  commanding  my  respect  by  the 
visible  rectitude  and  purity  of  her  present  life,  as  well 
as  by  the  refinement  and  elegance  which  attested  what 
it  had  been.  After  our  trouble  and  sorrow,  we  seemed 
to  let  go  of  the  external  future,  and  there  had  not  been 
a  reference  to  the  plans  and  hopes  which  now  again 
came  to  occupy  their  old  place  in  our  minds.  I,  at 


184  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

least,  returned  to  mine  with  renewed  interest,  after  the 
long  apathy  to  them.  I  had  left  my  home  for  Cali- 
fornia with  the  resolute  purpose  of  applying  myself  to 
money-making.  I  wished  to  enjoy  leisure  after  I 
should  be  fifty,  and  I  had  yet  eight  years  wherein  to 
earn  and  husband  the  means  of  doing  it.  Thue  I  was, 
I  hope  in  an  honorable  and  worthy  sense,  a  fortune- 
hunter. 

But  I  could  not  judge  that  my  friend  was  led  by 
any  such  motive  or  need ;  for  in  everything  that  indi- 
cated her  pecuniary  condition,  there  had  been  before  our 
calamity  plenty,  and  even  luxury.  Everything  worn  by 
her  was  subordinate,  indeed,  to  herself,  and  so  would 
have  been  the  jewels  and  robes  of  a  queen,  had  she  put 
them  on ;  but  it  was  evident  that  her  womanhood  had 
never  lacked  externals  befitting  its  nobility. 

I  began  now  to  feel  deeply  interested  in  her  future, 
and  when  we  found  ourselves  alone  one  evening,  on 
the  starboard  side  of  the  main  deck,  full  of  hope  that 
the  Captain  would  accede  to  our  proposal  to  take  us 
first  to  San  Francisco,  I  asked  her  directly  of  her  ex- 
pectations on  arriving  there. 

"  I  am  going  to  an  uncle,  Miss  Warren,"  she  re- 
pjied,  "  who  has  acquired  a  large  fortune,  and  sent 
repeatedly  for  me  to  come  to  him.  He  is  unmarried, 
and  doomed  to  remain  so;  and  he  wished  to  adopt 
Harry  and  Philip.  I  refused  his  entreaties,  which 
came  by  almost  every  mail  for  a  year  or  more — for  he 
was  here  before  the  gold  was  discovered,  and  was 
among  the  earliest  enriched  by  that  event;  but  at 
length  I  felt  it  best  to  put  away  my  repugnance  to  the 
chaotic  life  of  the  country,  and,  for  my  children's  sake, 
and  something  like  compassion  for  my  lonely  relative, 
to  come  :  somewhat  of  duty  I  owe  to  him,  and  much 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  185 

I  did  owe  to  them — an  education  and  preparation  for 
manhood,  which  I  scarcely  could  expect  to  give  them 
unaided.  But  now " 

She  paused,  and  I  said :  "  Yes,  it  is  changed  now, 
doubtless,  since  one  is  taken  to  God's  higher  school ; 
but  will  you  not  be  as  likely  to  remain,  for  a  time,  at 
least,  as  if  it  had  not  been  so  ?" 

"  I  cannot  tell,  dear  Anna.  Yery  much  will  de- 
pend upon  how  and  what  I  find  my  uncle  to  be. 
I  have  seen  little  of  him  since  I  was  a  young  child, 
and  men,  in  the  strife  and  fret  of  the  world,  or  the  sat- 
isfaction of  triumph,  are  so  unapt  to  put  themselves 
into  their  letters.  I  do  not  know  my  uncle,  and  until 
I  do,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  conjecture  where  an- 
other year  is  likely  to  find  us — Phil  and  me." 

Had  this  vagueness  any  reference  to  a  possibility 
that  was  always  in  my  mind  in  looking  to  her  future  ? 
Did  any  shadow  of  that  devoted  and  matchless  lover 
fall  upon  the  gray,  misty  field  of  conjecture  whither 
she  was  looking  ? 

There  had  been,  as  I  have  hinted,  an  application  to 
Captain  Dahlgren,  by  Col.  Anderson  and  Messrs. 
Garth  and  Watkins,  to  change  his  course,  and  run  first 
to  San  Francisco.  We  were  then  waiting  a  breeze, 
doing  little  or  nothing,  and  often,  when  running  a  few 
miles  a  day,  going  wide  of  our  course.  It  seemed  to 
be  our  fortune  to  meet  calms,  or  light  baffling  winds, 
but  we  waited  patiently  and  hopefully  now,  for  when 
a  breeze  should  come,  Captain  D.  said  he  would  decide 
whether  to  go  to  Peru,  or  first  to  California.  On  the 
sixth  evening  out,  there  was  a  prospect  of  wind.  We 
were  but  little  north  of  the  latitude  of  Rescue  Island, 
but  had  made  a  considerable  line  of  easterly  departure. 
About  nine  o'clock,  when  the  welcome  ripple  of  water 


186  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

at  the  ship's  side  had  become  a  three-  or  four-hour  old 
fact,  Captain  Dahlgren,  accompanied  by  Col.  Ander- 
son, entered  the  cabin  where  we  were  sitting,  and  after 
seating  themselves,  the  former  gentleman  said :  "  It 
is  necessary  now  to  decide,  ladies,  whether  we  head 
for  San  Francisco  or  Callao;  and  I  requested  your 
fellow-sufferer  and  my  good  friend,  Col.  Anderson" 
— waving  his  hand  with  stately  politeness  toward  that 
gentleman — "  to  come  in  with  me  and  speak  to  you  on 
that  subject.  I  am  myself  but  part  owner  of  the  ves- 
sel, and  I  must  act,  in  so  important  a  matter  as  trans- 
cending orders,  very  advisedly,  ladies  —  very  cau- 
tiously." Here  he  paused. 

Col.  Anderson's  countenance  betrayed  both  per- 
plexity and  chagrin,  but  with  the  admirable  directness 
we  always  found  in  him,  he  came  face  to  face  with  his 
difficulties  at  once. 

"  Under  other  circumstances,"  he  said,  "  we  should 
have  settled  the  question  and  spared  you  this  visit ;  but 
I  act  myself  under  embarrassments  " — his  clear  eye 
lingered  on  Eleanore's  as  he  spoke — "  which  need  not 
now  be  mentioned,  but  which  deprive  me  of  the  free- 
dom and  pleasure  I  should  have  felt  in  doing  whatever 
was  necessary  without  troubling  you.  Our  good  Cap- 
tain Dahlgren  very  properly  wishes  to  know  his  ground, 
and  how  far  he  can  indulge  his  kind  feeling  toward  us 
without  doing  injustice  to  his  owners. 

"  You  have  stated  it  profoundly,  or  precisely — yes, 
precisely,  my  good  friend." 

"  Then,"  continued  Col.  Anderson,  "  it  is  necessary 
to  know  what  compensation  can  be  made  him  for  doing 
us  this  great  service.  Watkins,  Garth,  and  I,  have 
proposed  terms  to  him,  which  he  is,  I  believe,  disposed 
to  accept,  provided  that  you,  ladies,  are  desirous  or 
prepared  to  enter  into  a  similar  arrangement." 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  187 

"Yes,"  said  Captain  D.,  "a  similar  one,  or  some 
other  that  I  could  entertain." 

Eleanore  spoke  first.  "  For  myself,"  she  said, 
"  Captain  Dahlgren,  I  shall  in  any  case  be  your 
debtor  for  kindness  that  is  above  reward  ;  but  for  this 
further  service,  if  you  can  do  it,  I  should  most  thank- 
fully pay  any  price  that  you  ask.  I  have  but  an  im- 
perfect idea  of  what  would  be  just  compensation,  but 
if  you  or  Col.  Anderson  will  tell  me,  I  shall  most 
cheerfully  and  gladly  engage  to  pay  it  on  my  arrival, 
if  it  exceed  the  amount  I  have  with  me  here.  In  the 
hurried  preparation  for  leaving  our  ship,  I  unfortu- 
nately omitted  to  put  into  my  trunk  a  wallet  contain- 
ing my  principal  drafts,  but  I  have  with  me  one  for 
five  hundred  dollars,  on & ." 

"  The  half  of  it  will  be  sufficient,"  said  Captain 
D.,  promptly. 

"  Remember,"  she  said,  while  her  usual  paleness 
increased  to  a  deathly  pallor  around  her  mouth,  "  there 
are  two  included  in  my — arrangement." 

"  No,  no ;  Phil,  God  bless  him,  should  go  round 
the  world  and  back  with  me  without  a  dollar  !  Allow 
me  that  pleasure,"  he  said,  his  face  flushing  with  sym- 
pathy for  her  distress,  and  earnestness  to  mitigate  it  in 
some  way." 

"  I  will  not  refuse  you,"  she  answered ;  "  your 
kindness  forbids  I  should;  but  lest  there  should  be 
somebody  wanting  means  to  reward  you  for  the  ser- 
vice we  all  shall  share,  please  remember  that  I  can, 
without  the  slightest  inconvenience,  be  set  down  for 
the  sum  I  have  named.  When  I  reach  San  Francisco 
I  shall  have  ample  means." 

I  glanced  at  Col.  Anderson,  and  his  face  was  at  that 
moment  whiter  than  hers. 

Blind  man.  I  said,  mentally,  not  to  know,  that,  if 


188  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

it  were  any  such  thing  as  you  are  thinking  of,  she 
would  be  beheaded  before  she  would  allude  to  it. 

It  was  my  turn  now,  and  I  stated  the  simple  truth, 
— that  I  had  started  with  but  two  hundred  dollars,  in- 
tending to  seek  employment  as  soon  as  I  arrived  in 
the  country ;  that  this  was  in  gold  and  silver — more 
than  half  in  the  latter — and  that  I  had  left  it  to  go 
down  with  the  ship,  fearing  to  encumber  myself  with 
the  weight,  and  thinking  money  of  little  value  in  that 
hour  of  peril.  "  What  I  have,"  I  said,  "  I  will  freely 
give ;  and  if  I  had  justifiable  means  of  assuming  fur- 
ther responsibility  immediately  on  my  arrival,  I  would 
cheerfully  do  so ;  but  I  have  no  claims  on  any  one 
there,  and  at  present  can  only  offer  you  what  I  have." 

Eleanore  had  laid  her  hand  on  mine  before  I 
ceased  speaking.  "  My  dear  friend,"  she  said,  "  you 
grieve  me,  in  acknowledging  that  you  need  assistance 
in  your  distress,  while  I  am  near  you,  and  money, 
when  I  have  it,  after  all  the  obligations,  which  one 
could  never  discharge  with  money.  Pray,  Captain 
Dahlgren,  do  not  let  Miss  Warren  empty  her  purse 
into  your  hand  on  landing  in  a  strange  city.  This 
draft,  by  your  statement,  will  satisfy  for  both  of  us — 
will  it  not  ?" 

He  looked  at  it.  "  Yes,  madam,  amply ;  set 
yourself  at  rest  about  that.  And  it  is  on  a  good 
house,  too." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  with  a  smile,  which  just  hinted 
that  it  was  above  all  question.  "  I  should  scarcely 
have  offered  it  to  you  if  it  had  not  been." 

I  was  thus  constrained  to  accept  her  generosity, 
which  was  enforced  in  so  delicate  and  self-obliging  a 
spirit  that  only  the  most  ungracious  could  have  refused 
it ;  and  I  satisfied  myself  with  simply  saying :  "  I  will 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  189 

be  so  much  indebted  to  you,  for  the  present,  Mrs. 
Bromfield." 

Col.  Anderson  was  still  very  pale,  and  sat  silent 
from  the  moment  when  he  had  laid  the  matter  open 
before  us.  They  now  rose  to  leave  us  ;  or  rather,  Cap- 
tain Dahlgren,  the  arrangement  being  completed,  rose 
to  give  orders  to  stand  northward.  Col.  A.  remained 
a  few  moments,  speaking  abstractedly  in  answer  to  our 
questions  as  to  the  probable  length  of  the  voyage,  and 
other  such  matters ;  but  the  pain  of  his  spirit  was  too 
great  to  be  endured  there.  He  had  been  stabbed  as  by  a 
poisoned  blade,  and  he  went  away  carrying  the  barbed 
and  cruel  weapon  in  his  heart. 

Mrs.  Bromfield,  observing  his  wretched  looks,  in- 
quired, with  a  most  unaffected  concern,  if  he  were  not 
well ;  and  being  answered,  "  Quite  so,  thank  you," 
offered  him  her  hand  with  her  good-night,  as  he  was 
going." 

"  I  am  sure  something  ails  or  affects  Col.  Ander- 
son deeply,"  she  said,  after  he  was  gone.  "  What  can 
it  be  ?" 

"Shall  I  tell  you?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  no,  no  1"  she  replied,  looking  about  her ; 
"  if  it  is — is — what  we  have  already  spoken  of,  don't 
name  it  here." 

"  There  is  no  one  here  but  ourselves.  They  are  all 
on  deck ;  and  you  shall  know,"  I  said,  holding  her 
hand,  as  she  was  about  raising  it  in  expostulation. 
"  If  you  had  had  eyes,  you  could  have  seen  it  as  well 
as  I." 

"Is  it  some  especial  fact  or  circumstance?"  she 
asked. 

"It  is  a  horrible  doubt,  that  is  at  this  moment 
eating  into  his  very  heart.  You  said  you  should  have 


190  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

ample  means  in  San  Francisco,  and  he  has  never  heard 
of  your  having  a  relative  there.  Do  you  understand 
now?" 

"  ISTot  his  right "  she  began. 

"  Right,  dear  Eleanore !  "What  has  right  to  do 
with  a  heroic  man  dying  at  the  feet  of  a  hard-hearted 
woman  ?"  I  asked,  warmly.  "  Does  love  ever  question 
its  own  right  to  suffer  ?  I  see  now  that  almost  your 
lip  curls ;  but  you  know  as  well  as  I  that  only  a 
strong,  heroic  soul,  can  so  love  and  so  endure.  And 
if  I  could  believe  you  insensible  to  the  manly  passion 
and  the  womanly  delicacy  with  which,  among  these 
common  persons,  he  buries  it  from  every  eye,  I  cer- 
tainly should  love  you  less,  and  respect  you  less,  too ; 
for  it  would  argue  a  lack  of  womanliness,  which 
I  should  be  slow  to  attribute  to  you  without  such 
proof." 

Her  eyes  dilated  while  I  spoke,  their  solemn  gaze 
fixed  full  upon  my  excited  countenance,  and  so  rest- 
ing through  a  long  pause,  after  I  had  done. 

"  Whether  I  am  so  insensible  or  not,  dear  Anna," 
she  at  length  said,  gravely,  but  kindly,  "  is  not  for  any 
one — scarcely  for  myself — to  know  at  this  time.  But 
I  would  not  consciously  inflict  such  pain  upon  any 
soul,  much  less  that  one  ;  and  if  you  can  correct  his 
misunderstanding  without — observe  now,  dear — with- 
out referring  to  me  in  any  way,  simply  by  stating  what 
you  already  know,  pray  do  so  at  once." 

"  I  cannot  go  alone  to  seek  him,"  I  said. 

" I  will  go  with  you,"  she  replied.  "It  is  not  too 
late  to  take  a  walk,  though  I  did  not  intend  to  go  out 
again  to-night.  I  trust  you,  dear,  with  a  very  delicate 
mission,  for  he  must  by  no  means  suppose  that  I  feel 
any  obligation  to  him  in  such  matters." 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  191 

"  He  shall  not.     Do  not  fear." 

When  we  did  not  find  Col.  Anderson  on  deck,  I 
began  to  feel  more  sensibly  the  delicacy  of  my  task. 
If  I  had  to  send  for  him,  what  should  I  say  ?  Eleanore 
and  I  walked  up  and  down  two  or  three  times,  re- 
ceiving polite  greetings  from  Mr.  Hart,  and  ceremo- 
nious ones  from  Mr.  Mackay  and  the  Herr  Yogelbert, 
whose  indefatigable  pipe  was  on  duty ;  and  when  we 
had  got  past  all  these  little  hindrances,  she  said  :  "  I  do 
not  like  this  double-dealing.  I  seem  to  be  here  merely 
for  a  walk,  and  I  must  seem  to  know  nothing  of  what 
you  have  to  say  to  our  friend ;  and  yet  I  am  not  here 
for  a  walk,  and  I  do  know  all  about  it.  My  heart 
scorns  deceptions  like  these.  Pray  set  about  your  mis- 
sion, or  diplomacy,  or  what  not,  as  soon  as  possible,  or 
I  fear  I  shall  take  it  in  hand  myself." 

"  I  wish  you  would.  It  would  be  worth  my  doing 
it  a  hundred  times  over." 

"  But  I  wouldn't,  if  it  were  worth  it  a  thousand 
times.  There  is  Mr.  Watkins,  is  it  not,  coming  this 
way  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  will  ask  him  for  Col.  Anderson,  and — do 
not  doubt  me." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  with  myself,  meanwhile  ?"  she 
fretfully  asked. 

"  Go  in,  if  you  like." 

"  You  are  quite  willing  ?  Then  good-by."  And 
away  she  darted,  with  a  quick,  impatient  motion,  and 
fiery  toss  of  the  head,  that  I  had  not  seen  for  many 
weeks  before. 

When  Col.  Anderson  came,  I  made  a  dishonest  pre- 
tense of  wishing  to  ask  some  further  questions  about 
our  voyage ;  but  I  had  not  exchanged  many  words 
with  him  before  I  found,  that,  if  I  had  her,  restive  and 


192  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

almost  rebellious,  on  my  hands,  I  had  him  in  a  state 
but  little  better.  Of  course  he  had  forthwith  pro- 
ceeded, on  the  words  he  had  heard,  to  argue  and  de- 
monstrate to  himself  the  agreeable  truth  that  he  had 
madly  and  blindly  committed  himself  to  a  pursuit  which 
had  brought  him  half  way  round  the  globe,  involving 
loss  of  time,  peace,  and  dignity,  for  a  woman  whom  he 
was  now  accompanying  to  her  bridal. 

Yes,  I  said,  mentally,  while  he  was  moodily  answer- 
ing my  idle  questions — yes,  that  is  the  argument  you 
have  made  ;  and  it  is  summed  up,  I  have  no  doubt,  in 
about  these  words  :  And  a  precious  fool  I  have  made 
of  myself,  after  all. 

Seeing  that  he  would  not  allude  to  the  subject,  nor 
to  Mrs.  Bromfield,  nor  our  arrival  in  San  Francisco — 
that,  in  short,  he  had,  for  the  hour,  sublimely  ignored 
all  that  he  had  lived  for  during  the  months  of  our  ac- 
quaintance— I  at  last  came  boldly,  and  I  natter  myself 
spiritedly,  as  became  a  gratuitous  meddler  in  other 
people's  love  affairs,  to  the  question. 

"  Col.  Anderson,"  I  said,  "  you  have  more  than 
once  honored  me  with  some  confidence  in  an  affair 
which  I  need  not  name  here.  I  am  now  going  to 
honor  you  with  a  little  of  the  same.  I  saw  you  to- 
night, and  I  know  what  makes  you  moody  and  almost 
rude  to  me  now.  Nevertheless,  you  shall  have  the 
good  I  came  to  offer  you.  Eleanore  is  going  to  a  rich 
bachelor — " 

"  Lover  !  I  knew  it,  Miss  Warren.  It  doesn't  mat- 
ter to  me." 

"  Doesn't  matter  to  you  ?"  I  said.  "  The  Lord  for- 
give your  untruth,  Col.  Anderson.  I  believe  you 
would  rather  we  were  all  sunk  to  the  bottom  to-night, 
than  it  was  a  fact." 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  193 

"I  shall  love  her  no  less — though  she  were 
a  hundred  times  another  man's  wife.  Heaven  .and 
earth  cannot  deprive  me  of  that  right.  I  shall  now 
only  learn  to  worship  her  at  a  distance,  instead  of  liv- 
ing,  as  I  have,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  her,  some  day, 
queen  in  my  own  happy  home,  and  feeling — my  God  ! 
Miss  Warren,  do  not  speak  to  me — do  not  stay  to  wit- 
ness the  agony  I  cannot  always  conceal !" 

"  But,  my  dear  friend,"  I  said,  you — you  mistake — 
it  is  not  so  ;  hear  me,  and  take  back  your  hope.  She 
is  not  going  to  a  lover,  but  an  uncle — a  rich  bachelor 
uncle,  I  was  going  to  say,  when  you  interrupted  me." 

"  Do  you  know  this  ?"  he  asked,  in  an  incredulous 
tone. 

"  I  know  it  from  herself.  She  told  me  several  days 
since." 

"  Then  she  is  the  same  star  to  my  way  that  she  was 
before.  I  will  not  thank  you,  Miss  Warren.  You 
have  rolled  a  fearful  darkness  from  my  soul,  and  given 
me  courage  in  place  of  despair.  It  is  a  blessed  hand 
that  comes  twice  to  us  with  such  a  boon,  and  will  have 
its  guerdon  some  day." 

I  hastened  in  after  a  few  more  words,  and  Eleanore 
contented  herself  with  the  inquiry,  "  Is  all  well  ?" 
to  which  my  affirmative  response  was  received  with 
unmistakable  satisfaction. 

9 


OHAPTEE     XXIII. 

We  went  on  with  a  fair  and  steady  breeze  for  many 
days  after  it  commenced,  without  interruption — the 
Trades,  they  called  it — and  said  it  would  take  us  to 
San  Francisco  without  more  delay ;  but  they  were  mis- 
taken ;  for  the  Captain,  from  being  unacquainted  with 
the  coast,  or  from  not  having  charts  for  this  unexpected 
part  of  his  voyage,  ran  too  far  east,  and  found  himself 
much  nearer  the  land,  several  degrees  south  of  San 
Francisco,  than  he  expected  or  wished.  Then  there 
was  a  weary  beating  up— the  desert-looking  coast  of 
Lower  California  sometimes  in  view — then  Alta  Cali- 
fornia, with  its  golden  hills,  rising  into  the  soft,  trans- 
parent light,  occasionally  dotted  with  green  wood ; 
and  at  last,  toward  sunset  of  a  Sunday  evening — the 
fourth  that  we  had  been  on  board  of  her — the  Garonne 
dropped  her  anchor  on  the  bar  outside  the  Golden 
Gate,  in  fourteen  fathoms  water.  Antonio  came  aft, 
and  told  us  with  delight  our  depth,  and  that  next 
morning  we  should  get  in  with  the  tide  by  day-break, 
and  be  ashore  to  breakfast. 

Eleanore  stipulated  that  I  was  to  accompany  her  to 
her  uncle's,  and  remain  there  indefinitely  :  u  at  least, 
dear  Anna,  till  you  get  some  clothing  made.  Remem- 
ber we  are  all  very  shabby.  And  Phil  and  I  could 
not  spare  you  at  once,  for  then,  I  almost  fear,  we 
should  be  destitute  in  heart,  as  we  are  now  in  person." 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  195 

I  promised  for  a  few  days — at  least  a  week  or  fort- 
night. 

As  always  happens  on  reaching  port,  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  gayety  that  evening  on  board.  Cap- 
tain Dahlgren,  by  way  of  rounding  off  his  hospitalities 
handsomely,  had  ordered  an  especial  dinner  at  six ; 
whereat  Ching,  in  a  gorgeous  white  apron,  officiated 
as  extra,  to  the  great  delight  of  Master  Phil,  who  had 
nearly  laid  down  his  royal  title,  since  there  had  been 
so  much  sadness  among  us.  There  were,  beside  soup, 
fowls,  fricasseed ;  two  Kanaka  turkeys,  roasted ;  a 
German  salad,  without  a  green  leaf  in  it ;  and  endless 
fruits,  puddings,  and  pastries,  for  dessert.  There  was, 
in  short,  much  more  dinner  than  appetite — with  us,  at 
least.  Sad  reminiscences  of  the  past  would  steal 
through  the  gay  conversation ;  and  there  were  irre- 
pressible anxieties  for  the  future;  to-morrow  seemed 
formidable — if  a  happy  day,  it  must  also  unavoidably 
be  a  trying  one. 

I  know  no  pleasure  one  shrinks  from  more  in  the 
hours  that  bring  it,  than  the  pleasure  of  terminating  a 
sea  voyage.  You  have  desired,  hoped,  sighed,  and 
prayed  for  the  end  ;  and  now  the  end  is  come,  you  find 
the  joy  it  brings  clouded  with  many  little  regrets  and 
concerns — as  the  far-away,  tranquil  ocean  of  orange- 
green  in  the  sky  to-night  was  dappled  and  shaded  by 
those  innumerable  islets  of  scarlet  and  gold  and  pur- 
ple which  floated  in  it.  The  old  ship  is  suddenly  be- 
come dear  and  pleasant,  instead  of  disgusting  and 
wearisome.  You  recall  all  the  civilities  and  kind- 
nesses by  which  officers  and  crew  have  endeavored  to 
mitigate  your  lot  among  them ;  you  think  of  parting 
with  your  companions ;  of  persons  who  have  been  so 
very  much  to  you  for  such  a  length  of  time,  becoming 


196  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

in  twelve  or  six  hours  nothing  at  all,  like  the  wind 
that  wanders  past  and  is  lost  to  you  for  evermore. 
You  look  at  the  hurrying  sailors — sturdy,  manly  fel- 
lows generally,  on  whose  strength  and  endurance  so 
much  of  your  safety  has  depended — and  in  your  gentle 
mood,  you  feel  inclined  to  say  to  one  or  two  who  are 
idle  for  a  few  minutes,  You  have  been  good,  faithful 
fellows  on  the  voyage.  We  are  all  pleased  that  you 
have  brought  us  safely  to  port.  Now  do  not  forget 
that  a  sailor's  manhood  is  worth  as  much  to  him  as 
any  other  man's.  When  you  go  ashore,  do  not  say, 
Because  I  am  only  a  sailor,  I  may  as  well  get  drunk, 
or  fight,  or  go  among  the  worst  people,  as  not.  You 
do  not  speak  thus,  though  you  feel  tempted  to,  because 
the  world  would  wonder  if  you  did  ;  and  the  captain 
or  mate,  if  they  saw  you,  though  your  words  should 
touch  the  hearts  of  the  men,  and  perhaps  be  the  most 
effective  sermon  they  ever  heard,  would  suddenly  and 
sternly  shout,  "  Lay  forward  here  and  heave  at  this 
windlass,"  though  the  windlass  was  already  manned, 
perhaps,  or  would  not  be  moved  for  half  an  hour. 

You  look  about  the  cabins — the  places  where  you 
have  rested,  read,  talked,  dreamed,  wide  awake  to  the 
accompaniment  of  rushing  waters  and  roaring  winds — 
eaten,  slept,  meditated,  and  prayed.  You  find  in  your 
heart  an  affection  for  them  all,  and  only  pleasant  recol- 
lections of  what  they  have  contained.  How  blessed 
the  power  of  that  memory  which  clothes  itself  only  in 
the  light  and  smiles  of  the  past ! 

When  we  left  the  dinner-table,  the  sun  had  just 
begun  to  dip  in  the  purple  water  to  the  south  of  the 
Farallones,  whose  stern,  ungracious  forms,  rose  rug- 
gedly in  the  rosy  air,  and  seemed  to  say :  "  It's  all  very 
fine,  this  ecstasy  about  those  ragged  patches  of  vapor 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  197 

tip  there ;  but  what  would  they  be  without  the  sun  to 
dye  them  ?  Nothing  but  gray,  tiresome  clouds.  You 
would  never  know  where  or  how  you  were  to  find 
them  ;  while  we — we  are  always  here — always  the 
same — so  many  feet  of  solid,  respectable  rock — so 
many,  and  no  more  towers,  standing  up  just  here  and 
just  so,  to  shame  these  whiffling,  changing  clouds." 

Alas,  my  reverend  and  respectable  Farallones,  it  is 
not  unchangeableness  that  we  want  in  this  world — in 
this  or  any  other,  I  think.  It  jars  me  to  hear  God 
addressed  as  unchangeable.  I  do  not  crave  unchange- 
ableness, but  harmony  and  growth  in  change — unity 
of  purpose,  and  accord  in  the  ultimations  thereof. 

Eleanore  was  very  sad  that  evening ;  naturally  so, 
considering  what  she  had  to  remember  since  the  voy- 
age commenced ;  the  fear  and  peril,  the  suffering,  and 
that  island-tomb,  to  which,  by  no  possibility,  could  she 
ever  return.  She  and  Col.  Anderson  had  a  long 
tete-a-tete,  on  the  after-deck,  when  the  sunset  spectacle 
was  over,  but  there  was  no  intelligible  language  in 
either  face  when  they  came  from  it.  Mr.  Mackay  was 
full  of  polite  speeches  about  the  dreariness  to  which 
we  were  leaving  them  for  the  remainder  of  their  voy- 
age; and  even  the  Herr  Yogelbert  did  divorce  his 
meerschaum  and  lips  long  enough  to  say  that  he  "  Ver' 
moch  should  want  to  see  Mas'  Feelip  and  the  ladies." 

The  anchor  was  weighed  next  morning  before  we 
were  up,  and  by  the  time  we  got  on  deck  the  bark 
was,  as  Mr.  Watkins  said,  "  hauling  the  old  Fort  close." 
She  entered  the  world-renowned  Golden  Gate  just  as 
the  first  rays  of  the  sun,  whose  last  evening's  frolic  had 
so  glorified  the  air,  earth,  and  ocean,  came  pouring 
over  the  summits  of  El  Contra  Costa,  and  thence  ran 
gayly  abroad  on  the  ripened  hills  of  Sancelito  and 


198  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

Angel  Island.  How  swift  the  current!  This  is  the 
entrance  to  Nature's  richest  treasure-house,  and  she 
says  to  all  the  weak  and  inefficient :  "  Stand  back ! 
Enter  not  here :  for  this  race  is  only  to  the  swift — this 
battle  is  only  to  the  strong.  The  Lord  is  not  in  either, 
and  you  are  not  sufficient." 

Telegraph  Hill,  its  station-house  then  painted  red, 
like  the  old  farm-houses  of  our  Dutch  grandfathers ; 
the  lesser  hills  around  North  Beach  and  Clark's  Point, 
strewn  with  tents  and  canvas-houses  among  the  dark- 
green,  tree-like  shrubs  of  the  manzanita  and  low  live- 
oak.  No  flowers  except  a  small  shrub,  bearing  at  the 
top  a  cluster  of  yellow  or  very  light  brick-colored 
blossoms.  On  the  right  hand,  sand-hills,  alternating 
with  tracts  of  fertile  soil,  where  the  city  is  already 
planting  its  rambling  feet ;  on  the  other,  ripened  har- 
vest-fields, of  an  exquisite  softness  of  color,  such  as 
have  charmed  our  eyes  along  the  coast,  fenced  by  the 
ocean,  the  harbor,  and  the  cliffs. 

"We  have  rounded  Telegraph  Point  ;  been 
boarded  by  two  boats — one  bringing  a  marine  re- 
porter, who  proceeds  forthwith  to  take  the  details  of 
our  case;  and  now  we  are  in  front  of  the  bustle, 
and  profusion,  and  prodigality,  and  shamelessness  of 
this  youngest  city  of  the  age,  who  bids  fair  to  out- 
grow, long  before  her  majority  is  attained,  many  of 
her  far-famed  elder  sisters.  After  leave-taking  and 
a  great  deal  of  confusion,  we,  his  waifs,  as  Captain 
Dahlgren  called  us,  were  conveyed  to  the  dusty 
shore  in  his  boat.  We  touched  California  soil 
near  the  corner  of  Pacific  and  Montgomery  Streets 
— a  long,  long  walk  to-day  from  where  any  boat  can 
convey  you — up  Pacific  to  Kearney,  along  Kearney 
to  Clay,  and  up  that  ascending  avenue  to  a  ginger- 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  199 

bread  looking  hotel,  called  the  House.  Men 

gazed  at  us  as  we  passed :  some  gladly  and  kindly — 
others,  impudently ;  and  more  than  once  a  little  hum 
arose  in  the  groups  we  approached,  which  threatened 
to  swell  into  a  shout,  but  was  stifled  before  it  reached 
that.  Captain  Pahlgren  led  the  way,  with  Eleanore 
and  Phil,  while  I  was  honored  with  the  attendance  of 
Col.  Anderson  and  Mr.  Garth. 

"  By  heaven,  I  should  like  to  knock  that  fellow 
down !"  said  the  Colonel,  as  a  man  walked  past  us, 
looking  full  into  Eleanore's  face,  and  then  into  mine. 

"  It  seems  to  be  the  pleasant  custom  of  these  peo- 
ple," said  I ;  "  they  all  do  it." 

"  It  is  because  a  lady  is  so  seldom  seen,"  said  Mr. 
Garth,  apologetically.  "  Perhaps  when  we  have  been 
a  year  here  we  may  be  tempted  to  the  same  rudeness 
ourselves  on  meeting  one." 

When  we  ascended  the  steps  of  the  hotel,  Eleanore's 
face  was  flushed,  and  her  eyes  blazing  palpable  black- 
ness. "  I  wouldn't  walk  half  a  mile  through  these 
streets  again,"  she  said,  "  for  a  fortune.  Here  we  will 
inquire  for  my  uncle,  and  send  to  him." 

We  repaired  to  the  parlor,  while  Col.  Anderson,  at 
her  request,  went  to  the  office  to  make  inquiries.  He 
was  gone  very  long,  we  thought ;  so  long  that  Captain 
Dahlgren,  who  had  been  sitting  to  keep  us  company 
till  his  return,  rose  and  went  out,  saying  that  he  would 
see  what  the  delay  meant.  Mr.  Garth  and  Phil 
shortly  followed,  and  there  they  all  staid.  It  was  at 
first  unaccountable — unless,  as  we  suggested,  a  mes- 
senger had  been  dispatched  to  Mr.  Haydon,  the  uncle, 
to  surprise  us.  But  even  then,  word  ought  to  be 
brought  us  before  this  time. 

"  What   can   it   mean  ?"   exclaimed   Eleanore,   as, 


200  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

pacing  up  and  down  the  room  in  a  fever  of  impatience, 
she  drew  her  watch  forth  for  the  third  time.  "  That 
room  is  crowded  with  men,  and  we  have  seen  enough 
of  them  on  our  way,  certainly ;  but  I  cannot  wait  here 
much  longer." 

She  moved  toward  the  door :  "  Don't  go  yet,  dear 
Eleanore,"  I  pleaded,  for  the  very  long  delay  began 
to  impress  me  with  a  fear  of  something  unpleasant. 
"  Don't  go  yet ;  they  must  come  soon." 

And  they  did.  By  the  time  she  had  taken  two  or 
three  more  fiery  turns  over  the  gay,  costly  carpet,  the 
door  opposite  ours  opened — then  ours — and  the  little 
procession  entered,  with  dreary  faces,  which  told  of 
some  misfortune  before  their  tongues  could  name  it. 

Captain  Dahlgren  led  the  way,  and  spoke  first : 
"  My  dear  madam,"  he  began,  "  this  unfortunate  city 
has  suffered  very  much  from  fires." 

"  Fires  !"  she  echoed.  "  It  is  not  the  city  I  care  for 
now.  It  is  my  uncle,  dear  sir.  My,  uncle,  Mr.  Hay- 
don — Richard  Haydon." 

"  But  he — has — ma'am — has  been,  unfortunately" — 

"  In  the  name  of  human  patience,"  she  exclaimed, 
turning  quickly  to  Col.  Anderson,  "  tell  me,  will  you  ? 
what  it  is !" 

"  Yes,  do  tell  her,  sir,"  said  Captain  Dahlgren,  ap- 
parently much  relieved  by  her  sudden  appeal  to  the 
other. 

"  Your  relative,  Mrs.  Bromfield,"  said  he,  "  lost 
his  life  in  a  great  fire  here,  about  six  weeks  since.  He 
had  a  large  amount  of  property  exposed,  and  in  en- 
deavoring to  save  it,  it  is  supposed  he  was  caught  in  a 
burning  building  too  late  to  escape." 

She  sat  down  upon  a  chair  near  by  while  he  was 
speaking,  and  when  the  last  word  was  said,  her  gaze 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  201 

fell  from  the  speaker  to  the  floor,  and  tears  sprung 
readily  to  her  eyes.  "  Poor  Uncle  Richard !  if  I  had 
been  a  little  earlier,  he  might  not  have  run  the  risk  he 
did.  But  we  will  go  to  his  house,  Miss  Warren  and  I. 
I  will  at  least  go  where  he  has  lived." 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I  wish  you  could ; 
but  his  house  was  burned  also." 

"  Then,"  she  replied,  suppressing  with  great  diffi- 
culty, as  I  saw,  her  growing  sense  of  desolation,  "  I  can 
at  least  see  some  friend  of  his.  He  must  have  been 
well  known  :  he  was  rich,  and  doing  a  large  business. 
Such  a  man  would  have  some  friends,  surely,  whom  it 
would  be  a  satisfaction  to  see." 

"  Yes,  doubtless,"  replied  the  Colonel ;  "  if  you 
will  remain  here,  I  will  inquire  at  once,  and  bring  some 
one  to  you." 

He  left  us,  and  Mr.  Garth,  having  oifered  a  few 
words  of  sympathy,  and  any  service  which  he  could 
render,  followed,  saying  that  he  should  stay  at  this 
house  a  few  days,  and  if  we  wished  it,  he  would  send 
the  clerk  to  us,  that  we  might  arrange  for  apartments. 

"  I  think  you  would  better,"  I  said,  speaking  for 
both.  "  She  will  scarcely  be  able,  for  a  few  hours,  to 
consider  what  is  to  be  done." 


9* 


CHAPTEE    XXIY. 

When  he  was  gone,  I  found  Eleanore  apologizing 
to  Captain  Dahlgren.  "Indeed,  my  dear  sir,"  she 
said,  "  I  feel  that  I  was  rude ;  but  I  am  not  naturally 
patient  under  some  circumstances,  and  all  my  self-con- 
trol had  gone  from  me,  in  the  walk  hither  and  in  wait- 
ing for  the  message  you  brought,  which  I  could  not 
anticipate.  It  is  an  inexpressible  disappointment  as 
well  as  a  grief  to  me  ;  for,  though  I  did  not  know  my 
uncle  intimately,  I  had  a  high  respect  for  him,  and  I 
came  hither  solely  at  his  entreaty." 

"  It  is  very  unfortunate  for  you,  madam,  in  every 
sense,  for — pardon  me  :  I  speak  as  a  friend,  and  a  man 
whose  experience  shows  him  consequences  which  yours 
does  not — I  cannot  see  how  this  loss  is  to  be  repaired 
to  you.  I  know  already  your  misfortunes,  and  if  I 
mistake  not,  you  put  me  in  possession  of  the  only  funds 
you  had  in  hand,  for  your  own  and  your  friend's  pas- 
sage." 

"  Yes ;  but  my  uncle,  doubtless,  left  property. 
I  shall  not  be  destitute." 

"  Not  if  he  left  a  will  in  your  favor,  which  is  still 
in  existence ;  otherwise  the  law,  you  know,  if  it  does 
not  consume  all,  will  at  least  hold  all,  until  it  is 
divided  among  his  heirs,  and  that  would  not  serve 
you  at  present." 

I  saw  that  she  was  now  rapidly  taking  in  the  un- 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  203 

happy  contingencies  of  her  embarrassing  position,  and 
I  said :  "  You  must  in  this  case  allow  me  to  refuse  the 
generosity  you  offered  me  on  the  Garonne.  I  will  pay 
you,  Captain  Dahlgren,  fifty  dollars  ;  and  my  watch, 
which  is  a  valuable  one,  must  make  up  the  rest." 

I  took  it  off  and  handed  it  to  him,  but  he  refused  it 
almost  indignantly.  "  Pray  do  not  think  I  could  do 
so  unworthy  a  thing,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  Thank  God, 
you  are  here,  living,  and  in  good  health ;  yes,  that  is 
well.  Now,  if  it  shall  prove  that,  without  incon- 
venience, you  can  pay  me  while  I  remain,  that  will  be 
well,  too.  If  not,  do  not  think  I  will  let  you  reduce 
yourselves  to  destitution  in  this  city." 

"  Perhaps,  Captain  Dahlgren,"  said  Eleanore,  "  you 
would  better  present  the  draft  I  gave  you  at  once.  It 
is  on  Mr.  Haydon's  bankers.  Would  not  they  be  able 
to  give  us  some  information  as  to  his  affairs  ?" 

"  Yery  likely,  ma'am ;  and  if  you  will  indorse  it, 
I  will  go  immediately  and  see  them." 

A  pen  and  ink  being  brought,  the  indorsement  was 
made,  and  he  left  us,  saying  that  he  would  return  as 
soon  as  possible. 

This  is  dreadful,  is  it  not,  dear  Anna  ?"  she  said ; 
"  to  find  myself  alone  and  penniless  in  this  fearful 
place !" 

"  It  is  not  so  bad  as  it  seems  to  us,  I  am  sure,"  I  re- 
plied, determined  to  keep  the  hopeful  aspect  before 
her.  "Your  personal  misfortune  is  irreparable,  cer- 
tainly ;  but  there  is  a  better  side  to  the  humanity  about 
us  than  we  see  in  this  first  hour.  While  you  were 
talking  with  Captain  Dahlgren — good  soul  that  he  is — 
I  went  up  stairs  and  took  a  room.  I  should  have  con- 
sulted you,  but  there  was  only  one  in  the  house,  which, 
fortunately,  is  a  not  very  small  double-bedded  room. 


204  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

The  clerk  said  there  would  be  others  vacant  in  two  or 
three  days,  and  then  we  could  change  if  we  wished. 
Will  you  go  up  now  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  will  stay  here,"  she  replied,  "  till  Col.  An- 
derson comes.  It  would  be  an  effort  to  get  up  stairs 
at  this  moment.  See  that  blessed  Phil,  out  there  un- 
der the  window,  absorbed  and  charmed  with  the  sight 
of  this  hurrying  life.  To  me  it  seems,  oh,  how  differ- 
ent to  what  I  expected  !  "What  a  slender  thread  life 
is,  and  when  it  parts,  how  much  sometimes  goes  with 
it !  Here  is  gone  from  me,  in  my  poor  Uncle  Dick, 
protection,  home,  plenty,  rest,  and  perhaps  affection, 
which  in  the  end  I  should  have  prized  above  them  all. 
A  few  moments'  fierce  struggle  in  the  flames,  and  all 
this  was  blotted  out  from  my  life.  Poor  soul,  I  would 
he  had  died  peacefully  on  his  bed  I" 

When  Col.  Anderson  came,  he  was  accompanied  by 
a  gentleman,  whom  he  introduced  to  Mrs.  Bromfield 
as  Mr.  Hendrickson,  the  late  Mr.  Haydon's  attorney, 
and  then  left  us,  saying  to  me  at  the  door :  "  I  fear  there 
is  bad  news  altogether  for  our  poor  friend.  You  must 
not  leave  her  yet,  Miss  Warren." 

"  And  you  «"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  I — I  could  not  if  I  would.  I  am  going  now 
for  an  hour,  to  see  some  business  people  ;  but  I  shall 
be  here  again." 

"  Shall  I  remain,  or  would  you  prefer  speaking  with 
this  gentleman  in  private  ?"  I  asked  Eleanore. 

"  Oh,  remain,  if  you  please,  Miss  Warren.  Mr. 
Hendrickson's  account  seems  to  be  brief  and  conclu- 
sive— that  Mr.  Haydon's  property  was  chiefly  con- 
sumed in  two  great  fires  in  May  and  June,  and  that  his 
estate  is  consequently  found  insolvent." 

"  Yes,  madam,  that   is  about  it.     Business  affairs 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  205 

are  very  much  confused  here,  and  it  is  difficult  to  tell 
with  exactness,  when  a  man  dies  so  suddenly  and  has 
a  large  outstanding  business;  but  there  was  in  our 
office  a  general  statement  of  his  debts,  credits,  and 
assets,  real  and  personal,  placed  there  about  forty  days 
before  his  death.  By  this  statement,  at  the  valuation 
affixed  to  his  property,  he  was  then  a  wealthy  man, 
but  a  very  large  proportion  of  it  was  in  buildings  which 
were  consumed  afterward,  and  some  of  the  heaviest 
credits  have  been  lost  in  the  same  way,  so  that  now  we 
scarcely  expect  the  sales  of  real  estate  to  balance  the 
debts  and  pay  the  cost  of  settlement." 

"  Would  a  draft,  six  months  old,  on  his  bankers, 
possibly  be  good  ?"  she  asked. 

"  That  would  depend  on  who  they  were,  and  whe- 
ther he  left  funds  in  their  hands  to  meet  it.  Drexel  & 
Sather  were  his  principal  bankers,  arid  we  have  taken 
their  accounts  and  moneys  into  our  hands." 

"  This  was  on & ,"  she  said. 

"  For  how  much  ?" 

"  Five  hundred  dollars." 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  possible  they  may  have  so  trifling 
a  sum  as  that  in  their  hands.  As  I  said,  business 
matters  are  often — always,  indeed,  more  or  less 
confused  here,  and  the  fires  have  added  very  much  to 
the  common  disorder.  We  don't  look  very  sharply 
after  trifles,  and  the  sum  you  name  might  remain  in 

& 's  hands  a  long  time.     Mr.  Haydon  was  a 

careful  and  correct  business  man,  with  plenty  of  means 
to  do  with,  and  I  should  think  it  very  likely  he  would 
have  kept  the  money  on  deposit  with  them  till  the 
draft  was  paid.  Can  I  do  anything  further  for  you, 
ma'am  ?"  he  inquired,  with  a  movement  as  if  he  were 
about  to  go.  Time  is  very  precious  with  us  in  busi- 


206  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

ness  hours ;  but  after  those  are  over,  I  shall  be  most 
happy  if  I  can  serve  you  in  any  way.  I  will  take  my 
leave  now,  and  call  on  you,  perhaps,  to-morrow  even- 
ing, when  there  may  be  something  further  known." 

"  Thank  you,  if  you  will  take  so  much  trouble. 
I  may  wish  to  make  some  other  inquiries,  when  I  have 
thought  a  little  more  deliberately  and  referred  to  my 
uncle's  letters." 

"  Uncle  !  he  repeated,  with  quick  and  evident  sur- 
prise ;  "  was  Mr.  Haydon  your  uncle  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  her  astonishment  at  the 
question  appearing  in  her  face. 

"  I  did  not  so  understand  your  friend." 

"  You  mean  Col.  Anderson,"  she  said,  with  just  a 
shade  of  firmness  in  her  tone  which  carried  a  correc- 
tion of  the  word  "  friend ;"  "  the  gentleman  who  was 
kind  enough  to  bring  you  to  me." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  did  not  understand  him  that  you  were 
the  niece  of  Mr.  Haydon.  He  was  long  expecting  you, 
ma'am ;  and  he  built  the  house  he  lived  in  last,  ex- 
pressly for  you,  he  said.  He  was  very  anxious  for 
your  arrival,  and  often  told  me,  after  he  received  the 
letter  announcing  your  departure,  that  he  would  rather 
have  gone  to  bring  you,  than  wait  for  you  to  make  the 
long  voyage.  Indeed,  he  led  all  of  us,  his  friends,  to 
wish  for  your  arrival,  too.  He  was  enthusiastic  about 
the  home  he  should  have  when  you  came ;  and,  if  you 
will  allow  me  to  say  it,  equally  so,  and  justly,  I  am 
sure" — this  with  a  bow — "  about  its  mistress." 

Eleanore's  tears  flowed  afresh  at  these  words. 
"  You  both  pain  and  please  me  by  what  you  say,"  she 
replied.  "  I  do,  indeed,  for  very  many  reasons,  wish 
that  I  had  complied  with  his  frequent  and  urgent  re- 
quests, and  come  earlier,  or  come  at  last  by  the  Isthmus ; 


THE   EOF. AT,   ATTAINED.  207 

in  which  case  I  should  have  been  some  time  with  him 
— perhaps  even  now.  But  I  dreaded  the  transit  for 
my  children,  and  I  wished  to  make  a  sea-voyage  on 
the  distant  ocean.  I  have  paid  dearly  for  it  in  both 
ways.  Excuse  me,  I  am  unfit  for  company  now." 
And  as  she  turned  away  to  the  sofa  at  the  back  of  the 
room,  Mr.  Hendrickson  took  his  leave. 

"  Let  us  go  up  stairs  at  once,"  she  whispered,  when 
I  drew  near  her.     "  "Will  you  tap  at  the  window,  dear, 
rPhil?" 

But  when  I  looked  out,  there  was  no  Phil  in  sight. 
My  heart  leaped  within  me  at  the  discovery,  but  I  said, 
indifferently :  "  He  is  gone  up  on  the  piazza.  I  will 
bring  him." 

At  the  door  I  met  a  lady  very  gayly  dressed,  neck 
and  shoulders  much  exposed,  and  loosely  covered  with 
a  light  silk  mantilla.  She  was  just  bidding  good  morn- 
ing to  a  group  "of  gentlemen,  and  saying  that  she  had 
promised  to  go  out  on  horseback  the  next  morning 
with  Col.  S . 

I  thought  I  must  not  leave  poor  Eleanore  exposed 
to  strange  eyes  here.  I  therefore  turned  back  and 
whispered  :  "  There  are  strangers  here,  Eleanore.  Go 
with  me  to  our  room  now,  and  then  I  will  come  down 
and  get  Philip." 

She  lifted  up  her  face,  and  encountered  that  of  the 
butterfly,  who  was  fluttering  her  gay  little  wings,  and 
brightening  her  eyes,  and  giving  the  right  flow  to  her 
skirts,  before  the  large  mirror.  The  stranger  looked 
at  her,  too,  and  scarcely  could  there  be  a  greater  con- 
trast seen  between  persons  enjoying  the  same  social 
condition.  I  felt  proud  and  pleased  that  my  humble, 
unimportant  self  belonged,  as  between  these  two,  to 
that  majestic  person  and  that  grave,  spiritual  face,  in 


208  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

which  grief  had  softened  and  subdued  the  daring  pride, 
without  clouding  in  the  faintest  degree  the  loftiness 
of  soul  that  spoke  in  it. 

There  was  not  a  word  spoken,  but  Eleanore  took 
her  large  gray  shawl  from  the  table,  before  which  Mrs. 
Lindley  (so  I  had  heard  her  called)  stood,  and  we  went 
out,  leaving  her  for  once  certainly — perhaps  the  only 
time — looking  at  and  thinking  of  another  woman  beside 
herself. 

I  immediately  came  down  stairs,  full  of  a  fear 
which  I  had  concealed  from  Eleanore,  to  look  for  Phil. 
If  I  must  confess  the  truth,  I  had  a  positive  dread  of 
stepping  upon  the  board  sidewalk,  which  was  thronged 
with  men,  chewing  tobacco  and  smoking,  and  where 
the  appearance  of  the  two  or  three  women  I  had  seen 
passing  created  a  sensation  such  as  in  our  older  cities 
some  newly-arrived  giraffe  or  elephant  is  honored  with. 
I  did  not  know  how  long  the  young  truant  had  been  gone, 
nor  in  which  direction  to  look  for  him;  but,  glancing 
both  ways,  I  saw  a  show-window  below  me,  and 
thinking  it  as  likely  as  anything  to  attract  him,  I 
stepped  quickly  down  to  it.  It  was  a  cigar-shop,  and 
I  suppose  contained  the  universal  bottles,  but  not  Phil. 
I  turned  back  and  went  above,  looking  in  at  each  of 
the  open  doors  as  I  passed,  and  thereby,  I  suppose, 
jeopardizing  my  reputation  for  prudence  among  the 
inmates,  who  generally  came  forward  and  honored  me 
with  an  alarming  stare.  One  bold,  large-faced  man, 
came  near  and  looked  into  my  face,  as  if  he  would  say : 
"  If  you  did  not  wish  me  to  do  this,  why  did  you  chal- 
lenge me  ?" 

"  I  am  looking  for  a  child,  sir,"  I  said,  "  who  has 
left  the  hotel— a  little  boy." 

"  Oh,    yes,"    he    answered,   kindly — smiling,   and 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  209 

improving  at  once ;  u  a  little  dark-eyed,  curly  fellow, 
who  calls  himself  Phil?" 

"  Yes  ;  where  is  he  ?" 

"  Up  there,  in  the  grocery,  I  think,  now.  We've 
all  had  our  turns  with  him.  A  child  is  a  treat  to  us 
here,  ma'am.  Is  he  yours  ?" 

"  No,  he  is  my  friend's,"  I  said,  passing  on. 

"  Well,  you  never  need  be  frightened  about  him. 
He's  a  bright,  handsome  fellow ;  and  he  won't  go  far  be- 
fore he'll  be  picked  up  by  somebody,  you  may  be  sure." 

I  hurried  on,  and  going  into  the  grocery  he  had 
pointed  out,  found  the  little  vagabond  seated  in  state 
upon  the  counter,  on  a  raisin-box,  with  half  its  con- 
tents apparently  before  him,  and  candies,  figs,  and 
nuts  in  unlimited  quantity  at  hand  :  with  the  proprie- 
tor, clerk,  and  three  or  four  idlers  doing  homage. 

The  moment  he  saw  me  he  exclaimed :  "  Oh,  Miss 
Warren  (he  did  not  speak  my  name  so  that  a  stranger 
could  fully  understand  it,)  these  figs  and  raisins  are 
very  nice ;  but  I  haven't  eaten  but  so  many  " — holding 
the  hollow  of  his  little  hand  out  to  me. 

"  But  you  must  come  to  mamma,  Phil,  at  once. 
She  will  be  afraid  you  are  lost." 

As  he  rose  to  go,  the  merchant  filled  his  pockets, 
and  said  :  "  Ask  mamma  to  let  you  come  again,  Phil. 
He's  been  a  pleasure  to  us,  ma'am.  I  have  two  such 
little  fellows  at  home ;"  and  his  eyes  brightened  as  he 
spoke.  "  Never  fear  for  him  ;  he  won't  go  far  from 
the  door  before  some  of  us  will  have  him  safe.  He's 
got  forty  thousand  friends  around  him  here,  any  one 
of  whom  would  divide  bed  and  board  with  him  gladly." 

He  kissed  him  and  set  him  on  the  floor,  and  Phil 
and  I,  thanking  him  for  his  kindness,  started  off. 


CHAPTEK    XXY. 

This  little  expedition  reassured  me  much.  There 
was  true  affection  in  the  people  who  hailed  a  child  so 
heartily.  The  Divine  could  not  be  extinct  in  bosoms 
so  keenly  alive  to  the  angelic.  I  felt  encouraged  for 
myself  and  my  friend,  to  whom  I  hastened  to  impart 
my  satisfaction.  Phil  was  tenderly  admonished,  and 
caressed  for  the  danger  he  might  have  been  in,  and 
then  placed  at  the  window,  that  we  might  confer  un- 
interruptedly. The  news  of  the  morning  had  linked 
us  more  closely  in  interest  and  purpose  than  we  should 
have  been  in  any  other  circumstances;  for  though 
Eleanore,  as  mistress  of  a  luxurious  establishment, 
would  have  acted  the  part  of  friend  and  patron  as  gen- 
erously and  delicately  as  any  woman  could,  I  was  not 
one  to  be  easily  patronized  in  that  way.  In  a  few 
days,  at  most,  I  should  have  separated  from  her,  and 
gone  alone  to  some  employment  that  would  have 
afforded  a  prospect  of  realizing  my  hopes.  "Whereas 
now  I  had  no  thought  of  leaving  her — no  idea  of  an 
interest  or  care  separated  from  hers. 

Sadly  and  fearfully  we  talked  over  her  position — 
the  possibilities,  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view — the 
social  ones  being,  as  you  know,  utterly  buried  to  us  at 
that  time. 

"  I  had  a  slender  income  at  home,"  she  said ; 
"  enough,  with  industry  and  economy,  to  support 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  211 

us  ;  but  two  months  before  I  sailed,  having  decided  to 
come  to  my  uncle,  I  took  part  of  the  principal  to  fit 
out  for  school  and  college  a  young  brother  of  whom  I 
have  great  hopes  some  day,  and  an  orphan  cousin — the 
dearest  and  best  creature  living — and  I  will  not  now 
turn  back  to  deprive  them.  God  has  given  me  facul- 
ties and  hands,  and  I  will  make  my  way  here  in  some 
fashion.  If  we  could  only  be  together,"  she  added, 
putting  her  arm  about  me,  "  it  would  be  a  great  help 
and  comfort  to  us  both,  would  it  not,  dear  Anna?" 

"  Yes,  and  we  will  be ;  at  least,  if  not  together,  near 
each  other.  But  let  us  think  and  talk,  now,  of  what 
is  to  be  done,  actually  and  practically.  What  can 
you  do?" 

I  can  teach  in  an  English  school  almost  all  branches, 
with  drawing  and  music.  Mr.  Haydon  must  have  left 
friends  who  would  aid  me  in  getting  something  to  do. 
I  will  see  some  of  them." 

"  There  is  one  thing,  dear  Eleanore,  they  cannot 
aid  you  in,"  I  said ;  "  that  is,  in  getting  scholars  to 
teach.  The  country  does  not  contain  them.  Think 
of  this  child  being  such  a  godsend  to  the  eyes  and 
hearts  of  the  men  here." 

"  True,"  she  replied ;  "  I  did  not  think  of  that. 
But  there  are  some  families  here,  and  I  might  get  pu- 
pils for  the  piano  and  drawing.  Even  a  few  would 
supply  iny  immediate  wants.  I  am  not  an  expensive 
liver  in  any  respect." 

"  No,  but  you  are  destitute  now,  as  I  am,  of  a  ward- 
robe. You  have  scarcely  what  would  suffice  a  com- 
fortable working  woman,  putting  the  lady  teacher  out 
of  view  ;  and  I  suppose  everything  is  enormously  dear 
here." 

While  we  sat  thus,  looking  at  the  clouds  and  the 


212  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

sunshine  in  our  near  future,  a  servant  came  to  say  that 
Captain  Dahlgren  was  below. 

We  immediately  repaired  to  the  parlor,  and  found 
him  there,  where  were  also  three  other  gentlemen,  with 
Mrs.  Lindley,  and  a  gay,  showy  woman  beside,  all 
chattering  boisterously,  like  a  company  of  parrots. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  my  dear  sir,  that  we  have  not  a 
parlor  to  receive  you  in,"  said  Eleanore. 

"  Do  not  concern  yourself  for  that,  ma'am,"  he  re- 
plied, wiping  his  forehead.  "  I  have  been  gone  much 
longer  than  I  intended  when  I  left  you.  But  for  your 
sake,  hoping  I  might  serve  you  in  a  measure,  I  stopped 

and  chatted  with  Mr. ,  the  head  of  the  firm,  who 

paid  me  the  money  promptly,  and  said  he  should  do 
himself  the  pleasure  of  calling  on  you.  I  told  him  of 
your  misfortunes  at  sea,  and  as  he  seems  a  gentleman, 
I  hope  his  acquaintance  may  be  a  pleasure  and  advan- 
tage to  you — for  I  am  afraid  you  will  need  all  of  the 
last  that  you  can  get  here.  It  is  not  my  privilege  to 
counsel  you,  ladies,  but  from  what  I  see  in  this  strange 
city,  I  fear  that  neither  of  you  will  find  yourselves  at 
home  in  it,  or  get  easily  into  employment  suited  to 
your  tastes  and  capacities." 

"  That  is  very  probable,"  I  said  ;  "  but  we  are  here, 
Captain  Dahlgren,  and  there  seems  to  be  no  better  way 
now  than  to  do  our  best.  I  came,  indeed,  expecting 
to  meet  and  overcome  difficulties ;  it  is  only  my  friend's 
case  that  requires  any  consideration." 

"  Madam,"  he  said.,  addressing  her,  "  let  me  speak 
frankly  to  you.  I  believe,  from  what  I  have  seen  in 
the  two  hours  I  have  been  abroad,  and  from  what  I 
have  heard  both  here  and  elsewhere,  that  this  is  the 
most  wicked  city  of  its  size  on  the  globe ;  and  I  am 
satisfied  that  a  person  of  your  habits  and  tastes  must 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  213 

suffer  deeply  in  it.  What  is  needed,  is  labor  of  the 
hands,  not  the  exercise  of  accomplishments  and  culti- 
vation such  as  you  possess — or  you,  either,  Miss  War- 
ren," he  added,  turning  to  me.  "  The  useful  and  the 
respectable  women,  who  have  not  fortune  here,  must 
be  manual  laborers,  for  which,  I  am  sure,  you  are 
neither  of  you  at  all  fitted." 

"  I  am  in  good  health — "  Eleanore  began  ;  but  he 
waved  his  hand,  asking  a  moment's  more  indulgence. 

"  What  I  was  going  to  add,"  he  continued,  "  was 
an  offer — a  very  poor  and  humble  one,  but  the  best  in 
my  power — a  passage  on  the  Garonne  to  Lima,  where 
I  am  acquainted  in  many  families,  and  where  you 
will  readily  find  employment  in  teaching  or  other  oc- 
cupations more  womanly  than  anything  that  can  offer 
itself  here." 

"  You  are  most  considerate — most  kind,"  she  said ; 
pray  believe  that  I  am  not  ungrateful  or  inappre- 
ciative,  and  that  your  suggestion  may  be  a  hope,  and 
even  a  reality  in  the  future,  should  fortune  fail  us 
here.  But  this  is  my  country,  and  Peru,  dear  Captain 
Dahlgren,  though  familiar  and  agreeable  to  you,  would 
be  strange  and  foreign  to  us.  These  men,  you  say,  are, 
many  of  them,  very  wicked,  and  I  fear  you  are  not 
mistaken  ;  but  most  of  them  are  our  countrymen ;  and, 
at  the  worst,  a  good  woman  can  appeal  to  her  country- 
men with  a  confidence  she  can  rarely  feel  toward 
others.  Our  experience  since  we  came  on  board  of  the 
Garonne,  ought,  indeed,  to  enlarge  our  confidence  and 
trust  in  the  hearts  of  strangers,  and  I  am  sure  it  has  ; 
but  one  always  cleaves  longest  to  the  native  land,  you 
know." 

"Yes,"  he  replied;  "I  approve  and  admire  the 
sentiment,  but  forgive  me  if  I  doubt  its  wisdom  in  this 


214:  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

instance.  However,  I  must  not  presume  to  argue  the 
case  with  you.  In  parting,  permit  me  to  say  that  I 
leave  you  here  reluctantly,  and  wish  you  both  all 
manner  of  good  wishes,  which,  if  I  had  the  power,  I 
would  convert  to  substantial  blessings  around  you. 
Fortune  was  beneficent  to  me,  though  unkind  to  you, 
in  bringing  about  our  meeting.  I  shall  retain  happy 
recollections  of  it  to  my  last  day.  You  will  find  in 
this  paper,  dear  madam  " — drawing  a  roll  of  coins  from 
his  pocket — "  the  balance  of  your  draft." 

He  clasped  her  hand  upon  it,  with  glistening  eyes, 
while  with  the  other  he  took  mine,  said  good-by  hur- 
riedly, kissed  Phil,  waved  acknowledgment  of  our  at- 
tempted thanks,  and  before  we  could  utter  them  was 
gone." 

Our  own  eyes  grew  dim  as  we  lost  sight  of  him,  and 
both  sighed,  as  we  thought — there  is  one  good  friend 
and  noble  man  gone  from  us  in  this  wilderness. 

By  this  time  it  was  near  noon,  and  we  remembered 
that  we  had  had  no  breakfast.  I  ordered  a  lunch  in 
our  room,  and  we  went  up  stairs.  There,  on  opening 
the  parcel  of  money,  we  found  the  good  Dahlgren  had 
returned  three  hundred  dollars ;  which  fact  more  than 
dimmed  our  eyes  again — mine  especially,  when  I  re- 
membered that  he  had  not  one  dollar  of  my  money : 
which,  in  all  the  confusion  of  the  eventful  morning,  I 
did  not  realize  until  this  moment.  Honor  to  the  be- 
nevolent Swede  and  the  humane  gentleman  ! 

Eleanore  was  very  much  depressed.  All  this  was 
so  different  from  the  condition  she  had  looked  forward 
to,  in  which  her  wishes  would  have  been  anticipated 
and  supplied  almost  before  they  were  known  to  her- 
self The  teaching  looked  dubious.  It  was  so  grating 
to  her  independent  soul  to  have  to  apply  to  strangers — 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  215 

all  men,  too.  "And  nobody  knows,"  she  added, 
"  how  perverted  or  distrustful  they  may  be.  Men  de- 
generate so  frightfully — even  possibly  good  and  respect- 
able men — when  they  are  separated  from  good  women, 
or,  worse  still,  when  they  mix  with  bad  ones.  Those 
men  are  always  best,  noblest,  and  most  harmonious, 
in  whom  is  seen  the  reflected  influence  of  elevated  and 
refined  women.  Man  is  comparatively  unaspiring 
when  alone.  He  reverences  less  than  woman,  and 
therefore  degenerates  when  she  does  not  influence  his 
thoughts  and  emotions.  You  dread  to  separate  any 
but  the  noblest,  loftiest,  and  most  religious  men,  from 
pure  and  refined  women  ;  and  I  think  we  generally  see 
that  those  who  sustain  themselves  best  in  this  unfa- 
vorable condition,  are  they  who  unite  to  a  large  and 
rugged  manhood  the  womanly  traits  of  tenderness, 
reverence,  and  sensibility.  Such  men  are  not  degraded 
by  external  circumstances,  however  gross.  Their  spir- 
itual fineness  repels  taint,  as  polished  steel  reflects  heat. 
But  how  small  is  the  number  of  such  1" 


CHAPTEE     XXYI. 

There  was  a  dinner  at  two  o'clock,  and  we  were  pro- 
posing a  plan  of  going  out  in  the  afternoon  to  make  some 
indispensable  purchases,  when  Phil,  at  his  post  of  obser- 
vation by  the  window,  suddenly  shouted:  "Oh,  mamma, 
I  see  Turnel — I  see  Turnel  coming  !  Let  me  go  down 
to  him,  mamma  ;  do,  p'ease,  let  me  go." 

"Yes,  darling,  but  don't  leave  the  house.  You 
know,  when  mamma  trusts  you,  you  are  not  to  go 
without  asking." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  replied  ;  and  away  he  ran,  de- 
lighted. 

"  Dear  child,"  she  said,  "  after  having  so  many  de- 
voted to  his  amusement,  even  the  confinement  of  the 
ship  was  better  than  this  will  be,  I  fear." 

"  But  this  cannot  continue,"  I  said.  I  thought  it 
best,  beside,  that  it  was  necessary  to  keep  her  faculties 
edged  up  to  immediate  exertion.  It  was  not  kind, 
perhaps,  but  my  next  words  were :  "  Do  you  know 
what  our  daily  expenses  are  to  be  here  ?" 

"  ISTo,  but  I  suppose  they  will  be  large." 

"  Yes,  for  our  purses,  you  may  say  they  are  enor- 
mous— fourteen  dollars  for  you  and  Phil,  and  eight  for 
me." 

"  A  day  ?"  and  she  looked  in  incredulous  astonish- 
ment at  me. 

"  Yes — twenty-two  dollars  a  day." 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  217 

"  That  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  We  must  look  at 
once  for  a  less  expensive  home — and  next,  for  some- 
thing to  do  ;  for  I  am  sure  nothing  could  be  worse 
than  being  in  such  a  place  without  money  or  employ- 
ment. How  busy  and  eager  this  crowd  of  hurrying  men 
look  !  all  hopeful ;  not  an  eye  that  betrays  disappoint- 
ment or  depression — not  a  foot  but  treads  as  if  it  trod 
the  way  to  fortune.  Surely,  dear  Anna,  where  all 
prosper  so,  we  cannot  fail." 

"  I  have  no  fear  of  that,  Eleanore,"  said  I.  "  In- 
dustry and  capacity,  of  almost  any  sort,  are  sure 
guarantees  here.  Our  difficulty  will  lie  in  bringing 
ourselves  to  do  what  will  be  offered  us.  According  to 
Captain  Dahlgren's  estimate,  and  my  own,  so  far,  we 
are  in  the  wrong  market ;  but  the  labor  will  grow  to 
us,  in  time." 

u  This  open  space  in  front  of  us  is  a  park,  or  square, 
I  suppose,"  said  Eleanore ;  "  a  dreary,  waste-looking 
spot,  is  it  not,  Anna  ?  See  the  sand  and  dust  drift 
over  it,  and  down  those  streets  from  the  hills  !  There 
is  a  whirling  cloud  driving  through  that  group  of  men, 
and  almost  blinding  them.  Better  they  than  wo- 
men for  out  of  doors  here,  if  there  are  often  such  days 
as  this." 

And  wherever  we  looked,  we  saw  them,  and  them 
only ;  eager,  resolute  men,  with  the  sharp  American 
features,  or  the  broader  English,  or  the  heavier  Ger- 
man, or  the  mobile  French — but  all  bearing  one  pre- 
dominant stamp  of  the  spirit  of  gain  :  not  mean,  nar- 
row, sordid  gains,  such  as  wrinkle  the  miser,  and  bend 
his  lean  body,  and  shake  his  nerves  ;  but  large,  hope- 
ful, generous  gains — coming  as  a  flood-tide  rushes  into 
narrow,  unsightly  inlets,  broadening  their  borders  and 
hiding  their  defects,  till  it  recedes  again  and  leaves 
10 


218  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

them  more  ugly  than  it  found  them.  The  tide  was 
yet  at  flood  here.  At  long  intervals  there  went  by, 
hurrying  timidly  up  the  street  or  through  the  dusty 
square,  a  woman  closely  vailed,  with  head  bent  low  ; 
yet  even  then  rude  men  would  manage,  as  they 
passed,  to  gaze  into  her  face,  or  attempt  to  do  so— 
offending  her  delicacy  equally  in  either  case. 

"  You  see,  dear,"  I  said,  "  we  were  not  worse 
treated  than  others.  There  now  comes  a  group  in 
black  hoods,  and  large  China  crape  shawls  flowing 
carelessly  over  the  richest  silk  and  satin  dresses,  jewelry 
blazing  from  hands,  bosom,  neck,  and  ears,  talking 
much  and  loudly.  Ah !  it  is  easy  to  see  how  it  is  with 
these  unfortunate  sisters !" 

"  Yet  the  day  is  theirs,  now,"  said  Eleanore. 
"  I  am  certain  they  are  much  more  at  ease  than  we 
shall  be.  That  modest  woman,  who  met  them  and 
hurried  away,  as  if  hers  were  the  shame  and  not  theirs, 
tells  the  whole  story  of  woman's  life  here  in  these  days. 
Shall  I  confess  to  you,  dear  Anna,  that  I  feel  very  sad 
and  depressed  and  burdened  with  my  condition,  and 
yours,  too,  for  I  think  you  are  little  better  off  than  I 
am ;  the  difference  is  mainly,  that  you  are  likely  to 
find  all  the  hardships  you  have  expected,  and  I  none 
of  the  comfort.  You  will  have  less  trial  of  adaptation, 
and  fewer  misgivings,  perhaps,  in  these  first  days ;  but 
we  are  both,  at  this  moment,  trusting  more  to  the 
natural  rebound  of  the  spirit  after  this  depression,  than 
to  any  well-defined  hope — are  we  not,  dear  friend  ?" 

I  could  only  answer  in  the  language  of  my  suffused 
eyes  ;  for,  indeed,  though  I  had  uttered  all  along  stout 
words  to  her,  my  heart  was  like  lead  in  my  bosom. 

"  Never  doubt,  true,  faithful  soul,"  she  said,  encir- 
cling me  with  her  arm,  and  speaking  very  tenderly ; 


THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED.  219 

"  there  is  left  us,  at  the  worst,  one  comfort — the  only 
one  which  avails  at  times — the  comfort  of  knowing 
that  life  can  bear,  and,  in  the  end,  throw  off  its  bur- 
dens, or  fit  them  to  itself,  and  take  joyously  and  care- 
lessly to  the  sunshine  again.  You  have  seen  such 
seasons,  and  been  thrown  thus  upon  yourself,  I  know. 
Try  your  strength  again,  now.  "We  must  be  in  the 
battle  very  soon,  and  then  courage  will  lose  its  merit. 
They  say  the  most  arrant  cowards  become  brave  sol- 
diers in  the  midst  of  the  fire." 

"  Keep  me  near  you,"  I  said,  following  up  her 
figure,  and  I  shall  not  falter." 

"  Nay,  nay,  you  shall  not  say  that.  I  should  be 
lost  without  you,  dear  Anna.  Come,  let  us  go  below 
and  see  Col.  Anderson." 

"  I  wish  there  were  another  parlor,"  said  I.  "  Those 
noisy,  brainless  women,  and  popinjay  men,  with  enor- 
mous chains  and  seals,  and  rings,  that  would  hold  their 
weight,  are  very  disagreeable  to  me." 

"  Do  not  be  bitter  or  impatient  with  them,"  she 
said.  "  We  may  have  to  endure  the  presence  of  many 
such  people,  before  we  can  choose  whose  we  will  have." 


CHAPTEE    XXYII. 

Col.  Anderson  stood  before  the  door,  in  earnest 
conversation  with  a  gentleman  whom  we  both  pro- 
nounced to  be  English.  He  bowed  to  us  as  we  passed 
into  the  parlor,  and  sent  Phil,  who  was  at  his  knee,  to 
say  that  he  would  be  with  us  in  a  moment.  Fortu- 
nately the  room  was  vacant,  and  we  each  took  an  end 
of  the  sofa ;  but  we  had  only  a  moment  to  wait,  for 
the  Colonel  came  in,  looking  glad  and  cheerful,  and 
shook  us  each  by  the  hand,  as  if  we  had  been  separated 
days,  instead  of  hours. 

"  Thank  God,"  he  exclaimed,  fervently,  "  for  the 
blessing  of  work.  The  Church  teaches  us  that  it  is  our 
curse :  to  me  it  is  life,  happiness,  hope,  salvation." 

"A  salvation  much  more  easily  attained,  under 
most  circumstances,  by  men  than  women,"  said  Elea- 
nore,  sadly.  "  It  is  just  the  salvation  and  hope  Miss 
Warren  and  I  are  praying  for." 

"  He  sat  between  us  on  the  sofa,  and  at  these  words, 
he  turned  to  her  and  said,  as  if  the  thought  were  new 
to  him  :  "  Do  you  want  work  ?" 

"And  why  should  I  not  ?"  she  answered.  "  Put  my 
unexpected  necessities  out  of  the  case,  if  you  please, 
and  still,  if  work  is  hope  and  happiness  to  you,  it 
ought  to  be  the  same  to  me,  if  I  had  as  much  life  and 
worth.  The  difference  between  us  is  only  that  of  man 
and  woman." 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  221 

"  But  is  not  that  enough  to  entitle  you  to  exemp- 
tion ?"  he  asked. 

"  You  would  not,  surely,  deprive  me  of  blessings 
which  you  enjoy  so  much,"  she  said.  "  Something 
which  you  expect  to  do  now,  has,  in  these  two  hours, 
made  another  being  of  you.  Your  step  is  elastic,  your 
eye  bright,  your  speech  firm,  and  your  tones  full  and 
buoyant.  You  feel  a  power  within  which  you  have 
not  felt  since  we  set  out  on  this  voyage.  It  is  a  bless- 
ing and  joy  to  feel  and  use  such  power.  Why  should 
I,  being  a  woman,  be  denied  it  ?" 

"  You  should  not,"  he  answered  ;  "  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  your  use  of  it  should  be  in — a — home — a — 
household,  where  you  would  not  only  enjoy,  but  confer 
such  happiness." 

"  But  the  household  is  not  mine,"  she  said,  sadly. 
My  theater  is  fallen,  but  all  my  needs  remain  ;  and  the 
wrong  we  complain  of,  as  women,  is  the  inequality  of 
the  treatment  the  world  gives  to  you  and  to  us.  If  I 
had  all  the  treasure  of  the  mines,  I  could  no  more  be 
happy  with  idle  heart  and  brain  and  hands  than  you. 
But  the  world  recognizes  and  allows  your  right  to 
labor,  whether  from  necessity  or  choice.  It  permits 
you  to  go,  unnoted  and  uncensured,  in  and  out  of  all 
its  market-places.  It  respects  your  earnest  and  per- 
sistent purpose  to  have  and  to  do  your  part — to  demand 
and  conquer  it — wherever  it  may  lie :  while  I  must 
courtesy  and  take  what  I  can  hardly  get,  with  '  By 
your  leave '  and  '  Thanks.' 

"  You  ought  not  to  feel  the  need  that  would  lead  to 
your  asking  its  favors  of  this  kind,"  said  Col.  Ander- 
son. "  If  my  will  were  the  law  of  this  globe,  there 
should  no  woman  ever  have  to  labor  one  day  in  her 
life-time  for  outward  goods  or  comforts.  I  would  set 


222  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

the  strong  men  at  the  work  of  supplying  wants,  and 
women  should,  at  the  worst,  only  re-fashion  and  put 
into  new  and  more  perfect  combination  the  raw  mate- 
rials which  their  labor  would  furnish.  I  protest 
against  women  as  laborers. 

"  But  not  as  workers,  do  you,  my  friend?"  she  said, 
looking  earnestly  into  his  eyes.  "  You  are  willing, 
are  you  not,  that  we  should  use  and  develop  all  the 
powers  that  God  has  given  us,  and  that  can  only  be 
done  in  faithful,  persistent  work.  If  I  had  found  here 
all  the  wealth  and  luxury  which  I  expected,  I  should 
still  feel  within  me  the  same  urgency  to  occupy  myself. 
I  should  desire  work  the  same  as  now,  the  only  differ- 
ence being,  that  I  should  not  then  have  had  to  think 
of  the  recompense,  which  must  now  be  a  primary  con- 
sideration." 

"  It  must  not  be !"  he  exclaimed,  under  his  breath ; 
"  you  are  not  fit  for  this  strife.  God  forbid  you  should 
think  of  it !" 

"But  I  must,  Col.  Anderson.  And  I  am  fit  for 
anything  which  I  have  the  power  to  do,  as  well  as  an- 
other, without  injury  to  myself.  Nor  do  I  complain 
of  the  necessity  which  drives  me.  'I  only  complain  of 
the  world,  which  sees  and  knows  this,  in  the  experi- 
ence of  thousands  of  my  sex,  and  yet  converts  itself 
into  a  vast  prison  for  us,  appointing  the  well-furnished 
and  unneedy  for  our  jailers.  '  There,'  say  they,  '  is 
one  thing  which  you  can  do,  here  is  another,  and  there 
another.  We  think  you  can  live  by  any  of  these  ;  but 
whether  you  can  or  not,  you  must  not  go  beyond  them. 
If  you  desire  to  remain  in  harmonious  relations  to  us — 
if  you  would  not  be  marked,  proscribed,  and  shunned, 
do  not  seek  further.  You  can  eat,  if  not  plentifully, 
you  can  sleep,  if  not  wholesomely,  and  be  clothed,  if 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  223 

not  suitably,  by  diligence  in  one  or  other  of  these  em- 
ployments. Therefore  take  it  and  be  thankful,  O  gen- 
tle woman,  whom  we  cherish  and  care  for  !  As  to  the 
soul  which  rebels  against  this,  that  you  call  slavery, 
we  have  appointed  the  Church  to  take  care  of  that. 
She  knows  all  its  enmity  and  wickedness.  She  will 
show  it  its  bounds  and  limits,  and  so  school  it,  that  it 
shall  be  grateful  while  you  starve — meek  while  you  are 
trodden  to  the  earth.'  r 

"  Your  picture  does  not  flatter  man  or  his  organiza- 
tions," said  Col.  Anderson ;  "  yet  I  must  admit  it 
has  some  true  features." 

"  True  features,  my  friend  !"  she  replied  ;  "  is  it  not 
all  true  ?  Does  not  the  world,  because  you  are  a  man, 
give  you  full  freedom  to  use  all  your  powers  in  the 
largest  and  most  agreeable  and  lucrative  field, 
where  you  can  find  place  ?  Does  it  not,  because 
I  am  a  woman,  do  exactly  the  reverse  by  me,  though 
my  necessities  may  be  even  more  imperative  than 
yours  ?  The  world  employs  you,  and  undertakes, 
by  its  theory,  to  provide  for  me.  You,  by  the 
development  of  your  power  and  skill,  become  its 
master — I,  through  dependence  and  inaction  of  my 
best  capacities,  its  slave.  That  is  the  resulting  dif- 
ference." 

He  was  silent  some  moments,  and  I  waited  for  his 
next  words,  with  a  strong  feeling  that  they  would  be 
special  rather  than  general,  and  probably  narrow  the 
conversation  to  the  breadth  of  her  personal  prospects 
and  plans  ;  but  her  ideas,  or  the  electrical  earnestness 
with  which  they  were  conveyed  to  him,  had  taken  hold 
of  his  heart  and  mind ;  for,  after  a  thoughtful  pause, 
he  lifted  his  eyes  to  hers,  and  said :  "  If  I  feel 
compelled  to  admit  the  truth  of  what  you  have  said, 


224:  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

what  then  ?  Whence  is  the  correction  of  these  wrongs 
to  come  ?" 

"  In  the  recognition,"  she  replied,  "  of  my  moral 
freedom  and  right  of  spiritual  growth,  which  are  as 
dear  to  me  as  any  man's  can  be  to  him ;  in  the  acknow- 
ledgment that  rny  integrity  is  as  reliable,  my  virtue, 
in  all  senses,  as  worthy  of  the  world's  trust  and  my 
own,  and  that,  in  justice,  I  ought  to  be  as  free  as  you  to 
go  to-morrow  about  this  city,  and  seek  the  employ- 
ment best  suited  for  my  support.  I  ought  to  be 
respected,  in  going  and  coming,  wherever  a  man 
as  good  as  I  am  could  be  seen  without  reproach, 
and  to  feel  entirely  free  in  my  choice,  being  re- 
strained only  by  its  worthiness  and  adaptation  to  my 
abilities." 

"Would  you,  then,  have  a  woman  do  the  same 
things  that  men  do  ?"  he  asked. 

"  The  same  things  that  are  suited  to  her.  Where 
it  is  dexterity  of  hand  and  clearness  of  brain  that  are 
required,  I  think  you  will  admit  it  may  be  no  boast  to 
claim  for  myself  and  Miss  Warren  equal  capacity  with 
any  public  or  private  clerk  or  bookkeeper.  Yet, 
which  of  us  would  dare  apply  for  a  situation  in  the 
post-office,  or  go  there,  if  it  were  given  us  ?  Or  what 
self  respecting  woman  would  ask  any  merchant  of  this 
city  to  give  her  employment  at  a  desk  or  counter  in  his 
warehouse  ?  And  if  the  place  were  obtained,  and  one 
had  the  courage  to  go  and  work  in  it,  hour  for  hour, 
page  for  page,  with  any  man  in  the  house,  at  the 
month's  end  he  would  take  two  dollars  for  her  one,  and 
her  employer  would  still  reckon  himself  her  patron. 
Yet  we  never  lind  that  landlords  and  ship-owners,  and 
other  proprietors,  deal  with  us  as  with  fractions  of 
men.  We  pay  as  much  for  all  the  privileges  of  our 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  225 

half-life  as  you  for  your  whole  one.  We  go  and  come 
at  equal  cost." 

"  I  have  no  reply  to  all  this,  my  friend,  except  that 
it  is  true,"  said  Col.  Anderson. 

"  And  wrong,"  she  added. 

"  Yes,  wrong,  I  admit ;  but  it  is  wrong  as  old  as 
the  world  ;  and  but  for  my  faith  in  the  right,  I  should, 
perhaps,  say  remediless." 

"  Its  remedy,"  she  replied,  "  will  lie  in  the  true 
thought  and  right  feeling  moving  the  minds  and  bo- 
soms of  honest,  fearless,  and  affectionate  men  and 
women.  I  did  not  mean,  however,  to  attack  your 
opinions,  for  I  do  not  know  them  ;  but  I  feel  the  wrong 
just  now,  and  my  poor  cowardice,  like  that  we  often 
see  in  the  world,  assumes  a  character  of  courage,  and 
makes  a  virtue  of  self-defense.  Your  rejoicing  so 
heartily  and  healthfully  in  the  blessing  of  work,  jarred 
upon  these  strained  chords  of  my  heart ;  but  have  you 
not  some  better  words  for  us  ?  I  think  you  would  not 
readily  find  more  grateful  ears  than  ours." 

"  Miss  Warren,"  said  Col.  Anderson,  turning  to 
where  I  sat,  "  I  shall  make  my  peace  on  both  hands, 
I  hope,  if  I  say  that  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  and  there- 
fore wish  to  ask  a  question  or  two — assuming,  as  you 
once  said,  that  you  are,  for  the  moment,  my  sister  ;  on 
which  assumption  alone  I  could  possibly  ground  any 
title.  May  I  do  so?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  We  will  suppose  you  absent,"  he  said  to 
Eleanore. 

"  Would  you  not  rather  have  the  fact  ?"  she 
asked,  making  a  feint  of  rising. 

"  No,  do  not  go.  I  particularly  wish  your  pres- 
ence after  a  few  words,  and  I  can  imagine  you  away 
10* 


226  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

till  they  are  spoken.  Now,  Miss  Warren,  I  think 
there  is  no  reason  for  your  hesitating  to  tell  me, 
after  what  has  necessarily  been  common  knowledge 
between  .us,  how  affairs  were  arranged  with  Captain 
Dahlgren  ?" 

I  told  him,  and  he  agreed  with  us  that  it  was  ad- 
mirable. "  But  you  are  not  comfortable,  and  cannot 
long  remain  here,"  he  said. 

"  May  I  come  in  a  moment  ?"  asked  Eleanore. 

"  With  anything  pertinent  to  that  remark,  you  shall 
be  heard,"  he  said,  with  a  mocking  solemnity  of  man- 
ner and  tone. 

"  Then,  as  I  know  you  love  directness — " 

"  Better  than  anything  except  the  source  of  it  at 
this  moment,  he  parenthesized. 

"I  will  answer  that  question  myself.  Miss  War- 
ren is  at  this  present  hour  the  owner  of  eighty  dollars 
in  money,  a  valuable  watch,  and  a  very  small,  much- 
abused  wardrobe.  This  humble  speaker  possesses 
three  hundred  dollars  in  gold,  a  less  valuable  watch, 
a  wardrobe  of  about  the  same  pretensions,  and 
one  jewel  above  price.  In  addition  to  these,  we 
have  both  good  health  and  resolute  hearts  —  and 
while  we  have  them,  do  not  intend  to  eat  and  sleep  at 
twenty-two  dollars  a  day,  or  consume  any  one's  bread 
but  our  own." 

"  Is  that  dinner  ?"  he  asked,  as  a  bell  rang  in  the 
passage  at  that  moment. 

"I  think  it  is,"  said  I. 

"  Shall  I  have  the  pleasure  of  accompanying  you  to 
the  table «" 

"  If  it  please  you  to  dine  now  and  here,"  she  an- 
swered. 

There  was  a  great  rush  of  feet  in  the  passage,  and 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  227 

we  waited  till  the  press  was  over,  and  then  Eleanore 
said :  "  I  must  get  my  shawl,  to  cover  the  little  king ; 
he  will  be  cold,  lying  here  alone." 

"  I  will  go  for  it,"   said  I. 

When  I  returned,  Col.  Anderson  was  saying,  with 
the  deepest  earnestness :  "  Believe  me,  my  dear  friend, 
your  project  is  little  less  than  insane — for  such  a  wo- 
man, in  a  city  like  this.  You  call  it  corrupt ;  your 
childish  imagination  cannot  conceive  of  its  iniquities. 
Even  I,  a  man  of  the  world,  feel  revolted  at  many  of 
the  sights  I  have  already  seen.  Perhaps  it  is  not 
that  it  is  in  fact  so  much  worse  than  other  or  older 
cities,  but  the  vicious  are  unrestrained  here  by  the 
presence  of  the  virtuous.  For  God's  sake,  be  coun- 
seled, and  do  not  expose  yourself  to  the  rudeness 
and  insult  you  could  scarcely — no,  not  possibly  es- 
cape !" 

"  Self-respect,  purity,  and  consciousness  of  right, 
are  a  triple  armor,"  she  answered. 

"  I  know  they  are,"  he  replied,  "  in  all  fair  war- 
fare ;  but  the  field  is  against  you  here." 

"  Then  the  field  must  e'en  be  braved !"  she 
said,  firmly.  "  I  may  be  defeated  in  it,  but  I  cannot 
be  conquered." 

"  I  know  you  will  not,"  he  said,  his  features 
expressing  the  anguish  with  which  he  heard  her 
determination ;  "  you  will  bring  out  of  the  fearful 
conflict  before  you,  the  same  high  and  spotless 
soul  you  carry  into  it — strengthened,  I  know,  by 
all  the  pains  and  perils  you  will  surmount  j  but — why 
will  you  do  this  thing  ?" 

"  Simply  because  I  see  no  other  path  open 
to  me." 

She    stood    at   the   end   of  the   sofa,   resting   her 


228  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

hand  upon  it,  her  eyes  bent  to  the  ground — and  I, 
across  the  room,  at  the  window,  waiting  to  go  to 
dinner. 

"  Miss  Warren,"  said  Col.  Anderson,  "  allow  me 
to  wait  on  you  to  the  table,  if  there  you  will  excuse  and 
permit  me  to  return  to  Mrs.  Bromfield." 

He  did  not  ask  her  to  grant  him  a  private  interview, 
and  when  I  turned,  on  hearing  my  name,  I  saw  him 
standing  very  near  her,  his  tall,  powerful  form  bending 
over  her,  as  one  sometimes  sees  a  tender  mother 
yearn  toward  a  wayward  child  whom  she  does  not 
quite  embrace.  I  felt  that  at  that  moment  he  had 
asserted  his  natural  power,  and  I  hoped  it  would 
prevail. 

I  therefore  assented  to  his  proposal,  and  after 
being  seated  at  the  table,  I  whispered,  as  he  bent 
down :  "  God  speed  you  I" 


CHAPTEE    XXYIII. 

That  dinner-table — shall  I  ever  forget  it  ? — that  first 
in-door  assemblage  of  a  population  drawn  from  every 
nation  and  class  of  civilized  men !  "Were  ever  such 
visible  incongruities  gathered  at  one  board  ?  So  much 
youth,  power,  and  life,  running  to  waste  and  perver- 
sion— such  legible  records  of  these  facts  in  the  hand- 
some, manly  faces  before  me.  I  was  near  the  upper 
end  of  the  table,  and  on  the  same  side,  above,  were 
Mrs.  Lindley  and  her  friend,  with  a  man  whom,  from 
his  quietness  and  indifference  to  her,  I  immediately 
concluded  to  be  her  husband. 

Yery  gay  and  demonstrative  were  these  ladies — salut- 
ing gentlemen  across  the  table — taking  wine  with  them 
— ay,  and  drinking  it,  too,  with  sufficient  gusto  and  free- 
dom. Opposite  them  sat  a  serious,  thoughtful-looking 
young  woman,  with  a  little  girl,  of  about  Phil's  size,  on 
one  hand,  and  a  bright  little  yearling  on  the  other.  No 
husband  there  —  no  gayety,  no  salutations  nor  wine- 
drinking — apparently  a  stranger,  like  myself,  or,  at 
least,  not  a  participant  in  the  life  about  her. 

Below,  on  both  sides,  sat  men  of  every  shade  that 
the  Saxon  blood  is  capable  of,  and  every  conceivable 
condition  of  person  and  garb,  except  the  ragged  and 
patched.  There  was  a  very  large  majority  of  well- 
dressed  men — well-dressed,  that  is,  if  wearing  the  new- 
est clothes,  the  whitest  and  glossiest  linen,  the  most 


230  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

striking  of  plaid  and  striped  vests,  and  the  most  ex- 
aggerated pins,  chains,  and  rings,  could  be  called 
dressing  well. 

Next  below  me  were  three  stately,  slow-moving 
Englishmen,  who  utterly  refused  to  be  driven  by  the 
heat  of  the  battle  about  them,  and  opposite  them  some 
faces,  that  I  knew  were  American,  feeding  with  a  like 
deliberation.  These  were  afterwards  shown  to  me 
as  gamblers — the  richest  men  in  San  Francisco,  it 
was  said. 

There  were  middle-aged  men  and  young  men  ;  un- 
washed and  uncombed  miners  sitting  next  to  perfumed 
heads  fresh  from  the  hands  of  the  barber.  There  were 
splendid  faces  and  heads,  and  bodies,  too,  in  rough 
carters'  frocks,  or  blue  or  gray  over-shirts.  There  were 
men,  who,  you  would  have  affirmed,  had  known  Yale 
or  Harvard,  looking,  all  below  their  chins,  like  respect- 
able porters. 

There  was  a  confusion  as  at  Babel — of  English,  with 
all  the  American  and  British  idioms,  French,  German, 
Italian,  and  Spanish.  When  I  sat  down,  the  table 
was  full,  and  in  ten  minutes,  I  think,  half  the  seats  had 
been  left  and  filled  a  second  time.  To  some,  there 
came  even  a  third  occupant,  before  I  was  ready  to  leave 
mine.  For  I  had  an  appetite  and  leisure,  and  im- 
movable British  solidity  in  my  long-abiding  neigh- 
bors aforesaid,  to  sustain  me.  So  Mrs.  Lindley  and 
her  companion  had  carried  their  many  flounces  and 
their  fair  necks  and  shoulders  out  of  the  room,  and 
the  serious  lady  had  led  away  her  little  ones,  and  our 
waiter  had  looked  impudently  at  me  many  times,  be- 
fore I  rose.  I  took  a  plate  of  dinner  for  Mrs.  Brom- 
field  and  Phil,  and  two  desserts,  and  with  these,  I  went 
straight  to  our  room.  As  I  passed,  I  heard  loud  voices 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  231 

in  the  parlor,  and  I  was,  therefore,  prepared  to  find 
Eleanore  up  stairs.  And  there  she  was,  alone,  sitting 
on  a  low  seat,  with  her  face  buried  in  her  pillow. 

She  did  not  look  up,  or  wait  for  me  to  speak, 
but  asked,  meekly,  would  I  "  go  to  the  parlor  for 
Phil.  I  could  not  bring  him  up,  dear  Anna,  when  I 
came." 

I  did  not  stay  for  a  second  word,  but  ran  down 
stairs,  where  I  found  the  darling,  fresh  from  his 
sleep  as  a  rose-bud,  his  hair  tossed  carelessly  back, 
and  his  great  eyes  filled  with  a  solemn,  infantine 
wonder,  that  was  almost  weeping,  at  finding  him- 
self with  the  strangers.  They  were  doing  and 
saying  the  kindest  things  they  could — Mrs.  Lindley 
and  her  friend  and  a  profound  gentleman  whom  they 
called  Jack;  but  Phil's  lip  had  already  begun  to 
quiver,  and  the  moment  he  saw  me,  he  flung  himself 
from  the  sofa  and  from  them  with — "  Oh,  Miss  War- 
ren, take  me  to  mamma  !" 

"  The  dear  little  fellow  !"  said  Mrs.  Lindley  ;  "  he 
wouldn't  have  anything  to  say  to  us."  And  she  tried 
to  coax  a  kiss  from  him  before  he  went,  but  he  would 
none  of  her. 

"  I  love  little  boys,"  she  said,  holding  his  hand, 
"  and  I  haven't  got  any.  Won't  you  come  and  be 
my  boy?" 

«  No !"— sturdily. 

u  Why  not  ?  I  would  give  you  candies,  and  figs, 
and  everything  you  wanted." 

"  Because — my  mamma  loves  me,  and  she  don't 
talk  so  loud  as  you  do." 

At  this  they  all  laughed  louder  still,  and  Mrs.  Lind- 
ley seized  him  in  her  arms,  and  violated  his  lips  with 
a  kiss,  which  he  flung  off  almost  as  indignantly  as 


232  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

his  mother  had,  on  another  occasion,  and  with  flash- 
ing eyes  and  flushed  face,  said :  "  Don't  you  do  that 
again  !  I  don't  like  you  !" 

We  got  off  now,  Phil  almost  crying  with  vexation ; 
which,  however,  he  soon  forgot,  in  the  prospect  of 
his  dinner,  for  he  was  very  hungry,  he  said.  After 
he  had  kissed  mamma,  and  congratulated  himself  on 
finding  her  again,  I  took  the  dinner,  which  she  utterly 
refused  to  taste,  to  my  trunk,  in  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  room,  at  the  window,  arranged  it,  and  seated  the 
little  gentleman  for  his  solitary  meal.  "  Now,"  I  said, 
"Philip  can  eat  his  dinner,  and  see  all  the  people 
and  horses  go  up  and  down.  Mamma  and  I  want 
to  talk." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  understanding  that  we  were  not 
to  be  interrupted,  except  upon  great  urgency,  and  I  left 
him  and  went  to  his  mother. 


CHAPTEK    XXIX. 

"  Dear  Eleanore,"  I  said,  "  tell  me  now — I  know 
what  Col.  Anderson  took  me  to  dinner  for — tell  me 
how  you  have  arranged  it." 

"  There  is  nothing  arranged.  It  is  just  as  it  was 
before." 

«  Did  he  not—" 

"  Yes — yes,"  she  interrupted,  "  he  asked  me  to  be 
his  wife." 

"  And  you  refused  him  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,"  I  exclaimed — all  my  patience  swept  away 
at  that  word — "  then,  you  are  as  little  deserving  of  the 
blessing  you  have  as  any  honest  woman  can  be.  Did 
you  not  tell  me  that  you  were  free  in  heart  and  hand  ? 
You  have  not  promised  any  one  else — " 

"  Promised  !"  she  exclaimed,  raising  her  face 
suddenly  upon  me,  and  dashing  the  hair  from  be- 
fore it. 

"  I  know  " — I  said — "  I  know  there  could  be  no 
promise  from  you  without  love — nor  with  it,  either,  it 
seems ;  for  you  love  this  man,  Eleanore." 

"  Love  him  !"  she  echoed. 

"  Then,  why,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  true  and 
honest,  did  you  refuse  him  ?  Why  did  you  not,  at 
least,  acknowledge  a  preference  ?" 

"  Preference !"  and  she  rose  to  her  feet.     "  Prefer- 


234  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

ence !  Now,  dear  Lord,  give  me  patience  with  her, 
for  thou  knowest  I  love  her !  Preference !  I  should 
prefer  good  Captain  Dahlgren  to  Mynheer  Yogelbert, 
with  his  pipes  and  beer-pots  ;  but  I  should  prefer  sink- 
ing peacefully,  through  the  green  waves,  to  the  bottom 
of  the  ocean,  to  marrying  either!" 

She  moved  fiercely  up  and  down  the  narrow 
space  between  our  beds  three  or  four  times;  and 
then,  stopping  in  front  of  me,  resumed  her  low 
seat,  took  both  my  hands  in  hers,  and  said,  gently : 
"  Do  you  know,  dear  Anna,  that  I  love  this 
man?  and  that  means  that  his  presence  gives  me 
life,  and  his  absence  takes  it  away — that  I  envy  the 
senseless  air  which  embraces  him — that  his  footstep  is 
a  joy  to  my  inmost  soul — and  his  voice — oh,  his  voice 
interprets  to  me  all  Nature !  It  is  the  master-tone, 
wherein  all  others — discords  and  harmonies — are 
melted  into  sweetness !  You  do  not  know  that 
instrument,  dear  Anna.  You  have  heard  only  its 
hilarious  or  its  earnest  or  its  every-day  utterances. 
I  have  heard  more,  but  only  once — only  once.  I  never 
dared  trust  myself  again  to  that  music.  I  am  particu- 
larly sensitive  to  the  voice.  I  estimate  and  feel  that, 
of  the  commonest  person  who  addresses  me.  I  am  led 
to  new  friends  by  it  sometimes,  for  a  sweet,  harmonious 
soul  does  not  flow  out  in  rough  or  mean  tones.  I  liked 
this  voice  at  the  first  word ;  it  had  a  manly  volume 
and  fullness,  with  such  clear,  musical  intonations — 
promises  of  deep  tenderness ;  but  I  never  heard  those 
rare  modulations  till  that  evening — you  remember, 
dear,  that  sad,  yet  happy  evening,  when  we  sat  so  long 
upon  the  beach,  talking  of  the  future  life,  and  the  hopes 
and  aspirations  it  should  crown.  Then,  when  we  were 
walking  up — I  was  still  weak,  you  know,  and  the  deep 


THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED.  235 

sand  fatigued  me ;  but  I  would  not  lean  on  his  strength, 
as  I  should  have  on  Captain  Landon's,  and  involunta- 
rily I  betrayed  my  weariness — he  bent  his  head  down, 
and  the  clear,  distinct  words  fell,  one  by  one,  close  upon 
my  forehead,  as  if  out  of  the  divine  heavens :  '  Why 
do  you  refuse  my  strength?  Why  am  I  strong,  but 
for  your  weakness?'  And  before  I  could  recall  my 
soul  from  the  bewildering  trance  of  that  moment,  it 
was  added :  '  If  I  dared — if  you  were  not  in  foolish 
antagonism  to  God  and  our  souls — I  would  clasp  you 
to  my  strong  heart,  and  you  should  never  again  know 
weariness  or  feebleness.' 

"  c  But  you  are  a  man,'  I  said,  '  a  strong  and  no- 
ble man,  and  therefore  I  trust  you.' 

"  But  to-day,  dear,  I  dared  not  let  him  speak  so  near 
my  heart.  I  told  him  I  would  only  hear  him  if  he 
remained  at  the  other  end  of  the  sofa,  and  I  know  he 
was  angered  by  my  words,  for  that  old  fire  of  his  an- 
cestral race  smoldered  and  darkened  in  his  eyes,  till  I 
said,  kindly :  '  You  forget,  my  rash  friend,  that  we 
are  every  moment  subject  to  the  intrusion  of  strangers 
here.' 

"  i  You  are  entirely  right,  Eleanore,'  he  answered 
— it  was  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  him  speak  my 
name — 'I  will  do  your  bidding;  but,  in  God's  name, 
now,  be  reasonable,  and  hear  me  with  a  woman's 
heart,  and  not  with  the  ear  of  a  Fate.' 

"  And  then  he  repeated  the  story  you  already  know, 
and  asked  did  I — but  I  broke  his  question  off,  and  led 
him  elsewhere  before  it  was  framed.  For  you  see, 
dear,  if  he  had  asked  did  I  love  him,  I  could  not  have 
avoided  confessing,  either  by  silence  or  words ;  and  I 
would  not,  for  my  right  hand,  he  should  know  it  at 
this  time." 


236  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  This  is  so  inexplicable  to  me,"  I  said,  "  tliat  I  hope 
you  will  be  charitable  to  my  dullness — I  am  only  a 
common  mortal — and  tell  me  why." 

"  Anna,"  said  my  friend,  very  earnestly,  "  could 
you — would  you  decide  such  a  question,  under  circum- 
stances like  ours,  to-day  ?  I  am  ill  understood,  indeed, 
if  severe  judgment  is  to  be  pronounced  for  what  I  hon- 
estly believe  to  be  the  wisest  and  most  womanly  act 
of  my  life — and  which  also  costs  me  not  a  little  pain. 
I  have  confessed  my  love  to  you,  but  can  you  not  see 
and  feel  what  is  due  to  my  heart — to  my  inner  life — 
to  my  outward  dignity — as  a  self-trusting,  self-reliant 
woman  \  It  would  be  possible  for  me  to  doubt  myself 
at  some  future  day,  I  think,  if  in  this  haste,  under  the 
pressure  of  the  tempest  without  and  the  desolation 
within — which,  God  knows,  is  bitter  enough — I  could 
be  tempted  to  cast  my  burden  on  another  soul,  how- 
ever loving  and  true,  as  I  know  his  to  be." 

"  To  confess  your  affection,"  I  said,  "  would  be  a 
simple  act  of  justice  to  the  object  of  it,  and  not  neces- 
sarily, it  seems  to  me,  a  surrender  of  anything  essential 
to  dignity  and  self-respect.  I  do  not  see  your  own 
magnanimity  and  tenderness  in  this,  Eleanore.  Par- 
don me  if  I  pain  you  by  saying  it." 

"  I  could  more  easily  forgive  your  saying  than  keep- 
ing it  unsaid,  Anna.  That  would  be  unworthy  our 
friendship.  But,  while  I  feel  wholly  clear  in  my  own 
soul,  I  see  I  shall  find  it  difficult  to  bring  you  to  my 
point  of  view.  There  are  questions,  as  deep  as  life  and 
death,  affecting  my  relations  to  Col.  Anderson,  not  one 
of  which  has  been  so  much  as  alluded  to  during  our 
acquaintance." 

"  You  do  not  expect,  or  wish,  I  am  sure,  that  your 
husband  shall  entertain  your  opinions,  and  conform  to 
your  views." 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  237 

"  Not  unless  I  were  diabolic  enough  to  marry  a 
man  for  the  luxury  of  despising  him,"  she  interrupted, 
warmly. 

"  No,"  said  I,  not  heeding  her  blazing  eyes  and 
flushed  face,  "but  you  know  Col.  Anderson  well 
enough,  I  think,  to  be  quite  assured  that  you  entertain 
common  hopes,  aspirations,  and  sympathies.  Do  you 
not  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  make  that  as  a  general  statement;  but 
I  have  views  and  purposes  in  life,  with  which,  for  both 
our  sakes,  he  must  be  fully  acquainted,  before  we  as- 
sume any  permanent  relation,  other  than  that  of 
friends.  And  if  he  has  not  such  also,  which  I  ought 
to  know,  we  shall  be  better  as  we  are,  than  nearer 
each  other  in  the  long  walks  of  the  future  years. 
I  should  inevitably  jostle,  and  finally  spurn,  a  man 
who  had  not  some  adequate  objects  of  his  own,  which 
might  be  hindered  or  helped  by  me,  but  must,  under 
all  and  above  all,  be  Ms — testifying  his  individuality 
and  power,  as  those  which  I  pursue  shall  testify  mine. 
I  can  predicate  this  of  such  a  man  as  Col.  Anderson, 
but  so  I  can  of  many  others  whom  I  know,  between 
whom  and  myself  the  globe  is  not  too  great  a  wall  of 
separation." 

"We  were  silent  some  moments.  I  was  beginning 
to  get  a  gleam  of  that  interior  light  which  she  was 
following,  when  she  said,  in  a  tone  so  tender  and 
changed  from  the  last  I  had  heard,  that  it  arrested  the 
current  of  my  thoughts  at  once:  "Shall  I  confess, 
dear  Anna,  that,  hard  as  I  know  I  seem  to  you,  I 
withheld  all  acknowledgment  of  my  love  in  the  midst 
of  these  fearful  trials  and  yearnings  for  the  tenderness 
and  strength  of  such  a  soul  as  his,  more  because  I  dared 
not  trust  myself  to  make  it,  than  for  any  other  reason  ? 


238  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

You  think  I  am  strong,  with  a  heart  of  iron  ;  but,  had 
I  suffered  myself  to  utter  a  word,  or  betray  by  a  glance 
the  homage  my  soul  pays  him,  my  strength  would 
have  become  weakness,  and  I  should  inevitably  have 
taken  refuge  in  his  arms — perhaps  to  despise  myself 
when  the  storm  should  be  past,  and  he  had  brought  me 
to  smooth  and  sunny  waters.  No,  I  must  do  that  for 
myself,  or  I  shall  never  be  worthy  to  be  his  wife.  In 
weakness  and  self-distrust,  I  withheld  confession — in 
strength  and  self-discipline  I  will,  with  God's  help,  en- 
deavor to  become  more  nearly  what  he  dreams  that  I 
am ;  and  then,  dear,  when  the  life  of  realization  comes 
to  us,  not  far  off  in  the  future — " 

"  Ah,  be  careful,  Eleanore — be  tender  of  that  pre- 
cious treasure — a  true  man's  love  !  Do  not  let  dreams 
of  the  impossible  or  improbable  dim  or  shiver  the 
bright  casket  that  contains  such  a  jewel  for  you ! 
I  tremble  when  I  think,  not  of  the  danger  of  your  loss 
— for  I  believe  that  is  impossible,  except  by  his  death — • 
but  of  his  suffering,  and  the  dreary  banishment  from 
hope  to  which  your  silence  has  consigned  him." 

"  I  am  not  fearful  for  him,  Anna.  It  may  seem 
ungenerous  to  you,  but  it  is  true,  and  being  so,  may  as 
well  be  spoken.  I  scarcely  feel  pain  for  him.  You 
look  surprised  :  but  do  you  not  know  that  the  noblest 
maturity  of  character  is  in  suffering  ?  And  whenever, 
turning  from  my  own  claims  and  position,  I  think  of 
him  and  his,  I  feel  with  all  my  love  for  him — nay,  be- 
cause of  it,  and  of  my  proud  and  perfect  trust  in  him, 
a  secret  rejoicing  thrill  along  the  deep  and  inmost  cur- 
rents of  my  being,  that  such  a  soul  is  going  into  the 
furnace  to  prove  its  purity  and  individuality.  I  know 
that  he  is  so  worthy  of  the  gemmed  coronet  with  which 
experience  will  crown  him,  that  I  can  be  almost  thank- 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  239 

ful  to  the  inexorable  hand  which  parts  us.  When 
the  heroic  mood  flushes  over  me,  I  am  sorry  for 
nothing  but  that  my  share  of  the  pain  is  not 
greater.  For  him  there  is  nothing  to  fear.  He  has 
a  large  and  beautiful  and  healthy  nature,  full  of 
wholesome  activities,  as  you  saw  by  the  rugged 
heartiness  of  that  thanksgiving  for  work.  He  has 
many  sweet  impulses  worthy  the  most  womanly 
soul,  and  I  know  he  will  prove  himself  equal  to 
the  great  trust  I  repose  in  him.  He  is  going  away 
this  afternoon,  to  Sacramento,  and  thence  to  the 
mountains." 

"  When  will  he  return  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  And  you  can  thus  treasure  up  heart  and  soul  in 
him,  and  let  him  go  away  to  the  wilderness,  uncon- 
scious of  his  possessions  ?" 

"  I  have  told  you,  dear  Anna." 


CHAPTER  XXX, 

How  coldly  and  dismally  the  wind  blew!  Phil, 
who  had  long  left  his  dinner,  was  sitting,  with  his  face 
crushed  against  the  window,  watching  the  footmen,  as 
they  fought  their  way  against  the  dust  and  sand,  and 
the  horsemen,  as  they  caracoled  up  and  down  Clay 
and  Washington  Streets,  and  along  Kearney — past 
the  great  gaming-houses,  whose  music  came  to  us  in 
fitful,  wailing  passages,  as  the  dreary  wind  bore  it 
hither  and  thither.  Phil's  gayety  was  not  boisterous, 
but  he  rejoiced  in  the  flying  sarapas  and  jingling  spurs 
of  the  native  horsemen,  with  their  olive  faces,  black 
eyes,  and  abundant  raven  hair :  upon  the  very  top  of 
which,  the  small,  brown,  conical  hat,  was  held  by  a 
string  under  the  chin.  The  wide  brim,  standing  per- 
fectly and  stiffly  horizontal  over  the  grave  features, 
gave  them  a  formal,  severe  aspect,  and  an  air  of  look- 
ing with  deep  displeasure  upon  the  bustling,  hurrying 
army  of  invaders  that  surrounded  them. 

Eleanore  smiled  as  one  passed  who  was  more  notice- 
able by  his  prancing  horse,  rich  mountings,  and  gay 
dress,  and  said :  "  Recall  our  revered  friend  in  New 
York,  Anna — him  of  the  white  coat  and  auburn  hair, 
and  great  bald  head,  with  a  hat  standing  at  an  angle 
of  forty-five  degrees  to  the  line  of  his  body — and  con- 
trast him  with  that  poor,  unoccupied  being ;  his 
earnest  blue  eye,  beaming  with  the  fire  of  thought  and 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  241 

the  light  of  affection,  with  the  unmeaning,  unasking 
glance  of  that  little  black  orb;  his  benignant  smile 
with  that  sardonic  elongation  of  the  mouth  —  and 
tell  me  if  the  spirit,  rather  than  the  body,  is  not  the 
man !" 

"  Oh,  mamma,  mamma !"  exclaimed  Phil,  "  do 
look !  Oh,  Miss  "Warren,  come  and  see !" 

We  followed  the  direction  of  Phil's  little  hand, 
which  pointed  down  to  Kearney  Street.  It  was 
crowded  densely  from  side  to  side,  and  shouts  and 
screams  and  yells  arose  from  the  throng,  and  hats 
were  whirling  in  the  air. 

"  But  what  is  it  all  for  ?"  said  Eleanore ;  "  I  can 
see  nothing." 

The  music  in  the  Parker  House,  the  principal  hell 
of  the  city,  before  which  the  crowd  had  gathered,  had 
ceased,  and  as  we  looked,  there  rode  out  of  the  open 
doors  two  women  on  horseback — their  heads  uncovered 
— the  wind  tossing  their  short  skirts  willfully  and 
shamelessly  out  of  place,  and  they  reeling  in  the  saddle 
with  intoxication.  More  vociferously  than  ever  the 
mob  cheered  them  when  they  came  forth,  and  their 
spirited  horses  leaped  down  the  three  or  four  steps  at 
once. 

"  Oh,  God's  mercy  !"  exclaimed  Eleanore,  flushing 
darkly,  and  then  turning  pale,  "  that  one  should  be- 
long by  any  tie  of  Nature  to  such  as  those.  Well 
might  he  say  I  could  not  conceive  such  shamelessness. 
Heaven  forbid  me  the  power  !" 

"  And  those  men,"  I  said  ;  "  they  are  not  all  vaga- 
bonds, surely !  If  they  are,  the  country  is  filled  with 
such." 

"  There  is  no  acknowledged  class  of  vagabond  and 
worthless  here,  Anna,"  said  my  friend,  sorrowfully;  "  all 
11 


242  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

those  men,  except,  perhaps,  a  very  few,  call  themselves 
respectable,  claim  a  position  among  honest  people,  and 
would  repel  indignantly  the  imputation  of  worthless- 
ness  or  loss  of  character — they  have  good  wives  and 
daughters,  or  mothers  and  sisters  and  friends  at  home. 
And  yet  witness  their  baseness — how  readily  they  open 
their  mouths  to  applaud  that  mournful  spectacle  !" 

The  unfortunate  creatures  rode  off  toward  Wash- 
ington Street,  and  we  turned  away  from  the  disgusting 
sight,  sick  at  heart  and  fearful  of  soul. 

"  Shall  we  go  out  to-night  3"  I  asked.  "  It  is  al- 
ready late." 

"  No,  not  to-night,  Anna.  I  have  no  courage  for 
those  crowds  and  the  wind.  It  must  surely  be  better 
in  the  morning  :  and  perhaps  Antonio  or  Ching  may 
appear  to  us  by  that  time.  I  should  be  very  grateful 
for  a  sight  of  either,  for  I  have  an  unconquerable  horror 
of  going  out  quite  by  ourselves — with  an  object,  too, 
which  must  be  accomplished,  and  which  so  forbids  our 
turning  back  when  we  would." 

"  This  has  been  a  hard  day  for  you,  dear,"  I  said, 
noting  how  very  pallid  was  her  face. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  have  lived  a  year  since  morning. 
If  life  were  to  go  on  so,  we  should  grow  old  very  soon, 
and  weary,  arid  be  glad  to  leave  it." 

"  Let  us  leave  this  phase  of  it,"  I  said,  "  for  the 
present,  and  if  you  feel  able,  read  something  that  will 
help  us  to  forget  it.  This  is  not  all  the  world,  and 
even  these  people,  I  doubt  not,  have  veins  of  good  and 
helpful  nature  in  them." 

"  What  shall  we  have  ?"  she  asked ;  "  or,  rather, 
which  ?  for,  you  know,  our  library  contains  but  five 
books — the  Bible,  Miss  Barrett,  Tennyson,  Sterling, 
and  Emerson's  Essays." 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  243 

"Let  us  have  the  Essay  on  Heroism,"  I  said. 
"  Every  helpful  word  will  come  to  us  with  power 
now." 

She  took  up  the  book  and  began  turning  the 
leaves,  while  I,  with  needle  and  thread  in  hand,  seated 
myself  to  repair  the  best  dress  I  owned. 

"  This  is  a  precious  volume,"  she  said ;  "  not  only 
for  the  master-light  whence  it  emanates,  but  for  the 
lesser  ones  that  I  have  caught  and  fixed  here.  Look 
at  these  fly-leaves.  I  like  the  plan  of  leaving  several 
at  the  beginning  and  close  of  a  book.  It  enables  me 
to  put  my  own  mottoes  there — more  than  one,  to  suit 
the  meanings  I  find  most  pregnant  in  it.  Here  is  Bry- 
ant's sublime  '  Battle-field  ;'  a  piece  of  exquisite  and 
religious  beauty  on  '  Prayer,'  cut  from  an  old  news- 
paper ;  and  two  pages  extracted  from  Theodore  Par- 
ker's '  Discourse  of  Religion ;'  which  are  worth,  I  had 
almost  said,  the  whole  volume,  but  that  would  have 
been  wronging  the  others. 

"How  strong  one  feels  in  the  thought  that  such 
men  live  and  move,  suffer  and  rejoice,  now,  among  us ! 
Years  ago,  when  I  was  awakening  to  the  glory  of  the 
religious  life — learning  that  it  was  actual  to  my  soul, 
instead  of  an  opinion  or  a  creed,  which  I  might 
accept  or  leave  alone,  at  my  will,  I  remember  a  long 
period  of  painful  dissatisfaction  that  my  day  should 
have  had  no  Christ.  I  felt  certain  that  his  life  would 
have  been  more  potent,  to  me,  witnessed,  than  reported, 
as  Lafayette,  whom  I  then  saw,  seemed  ever  after  more 
real  than  Washington.  I  had  seen  the  arm  that  had 
been  generously  uplifted  for  liberty,  and  the  eye 
that  had  flashed  along  the  thunderous  line  of  battle. 

"  My  strong,  sensuous  life,  makes  its  demands  always. 
In  the  matter  of  persons  whom  you  ask  me  to  re- 


244  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

vere,  give  them  to  me;  or  else  what  will  show  to 
me  the  daily  common  life  of  the  man  or  woman.  I  do 
not  care  so  particularly  that  the  biographer  of  the  sage, 
poet,  hero,  or  lover,  should  furnish  me  with  the  dates 
of  the  great  events  in  his  life ;  and  even  the  events 
themselves  have  less  interest  than  a  week's  daily  jour- 
nal of  this  man's  doing  and  being — as,  how  he  lived ; 
in  what  sort  of  house;  his  gardens  and  fruits,  and 
the  care  he  gave  them ;  how  he  entertained  and  re- 
pelled his  children;  his  joy  at  their  birth  and  his 
grief  at  their  death  ;  how  he  talked  with  his  friends  ; 
how  he  was  related  to  his  wife,  and  wherefore  he  chose 
her.  These  items,  and  such  as  these,  would  bring  us 
nearer  to  that  soul,  which  is  now  become  only  a  name 
and  a  thought  to  us,  than  the  knowing  when  a  certain 
book  was  written ;  whether  at  thirty  or  forty  ;  when  a 
victory  was  won,  or  a  defeat  nobly  sustained.  In  the 
case  of  the  lover,  as  that  is  a  purely  interior  experi- 
ence, and  can  only  be  shadowed  forth  in  the  external, 
the  narrative  is  always  the  poorest  and  coldest,  though 
the  subject  is  the  divinest  which  our  human  life  pre- 
sents. Who  would  not  rather  hear  the  first  low-spoken 
words  of  love  and  pride  that  fell  from  Hero's  lips — the 
first  murmured  demands  of  Leander  to  be  acknowledged 
as  her  chosen  one — than  have  repeated,  on  the  most  un- 
questionable authority,  the  assurance,  that,  nerved  and 
strengthened  by  the  sweet  thought  and  hope  of  her, 
he  had  conquered  the  surges  of  the  Hellespont  ?  "We 
would  rather  know  what  coldness,  scorn,  or  anguish, 
were  in  the  last  interview  of  Sappho  and  her  lover, 
than  merely  that  the  Leucadian  leap  was  taken — the 
wild  waves  below  being  more  merciful  than  the  cruel 
tortures  above. 

"  It  is  the  life,  dear  Anna,  that  we  crave,  not  the 


THE   IDEAL  ATTAINED.  245 

record  of  its  outward  doings.  It  is  the  soul-life  that 
appeals  to  our  soul :  and  hence  the  great  charm  of 
those  few,  rare  biographies,  and  rarer  autobiographies, 
which  melt  the  heart  before  us.  Our  writing  and  read- 
ing and  remembering  have,  for  centuries,  been  cold  and 
unnatural  in  this  respect ;  the  ancients  were  truer  to 
the  affections  in  their  thought  and  expression :  and  the 
late  moderns  are  becoming  so.  Emerson  explains  it 
beautifully — the  old  fidelity,  I  mean — somewhere  in 
this  Essay  on  History ;  I  read  it  but  the  other  day. 
As  I  remember,  there  seemed  at  bottom  the  idea,  which 
we  all  have,  of  the  eternal  identity  of  life,  and  of  hu- 
man experience  in  its  highest  and  strongest  traits ;  and 
then  he  said  that  the  charm  of  the  ancient  literature, 
in  every  sort,  was  the  simplicity  and  healthy 
naturalness  with  which  persons  spoke  or  were  de- 
scribed. The  sensuous  life  was  strong,  and,  whether 
pure  or  not,  as  you  and  I  might  demand,  was  yet  un- 
shamed. 

"  Since  then  there  has  been  a  long  transition — an 
ascension  from  the  natural  toward  the  spiritual  plane, 
in  which,  with  Pisgah  before  them,  men  were  ashamed 
of  the  Egypt  behind — a  period,  I  think,  of  concealment 
— the  heart  almost  disclaims  its  love  :  at  best,  is  not 
ruggedly  independent  in  proclaiming  the  presence  of 
this  divine  light  in  its  chambers,  and  draws  the  cur- 
tains closely,  that  it  shine  not  forth.  Ah !  never  look 
so  accusingly  at  me,  dear  friend ;  my  time  has  not  yet 
come  ;  when  it  does,  then  see  if  I  have  not  a  touch  of 
the  old  Greek  wife  in  me" — and  smilingly  she  went  on. 
"  ISTot  only  does  the  heart  shrink  and  crouch  and 
plead  before  its  master-passion  for  concealment,  but 
the  soul  shuts  up  its  religious  exercises,  speaks  in  faint 
whispers  only  to  the  friend  or  the  minister  of  its  hopes 


246  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

and  fears,  and  has  no  healthy  natural  courage  to  stand 
before  the  world  and  say  that  God  is  its  Lord  and  Pat- 
tern, whom  it  purposes  to  approach  by  all  right  and 
true  uses  of  pleasure  as  well  as  pain.  There  is  a  sickly 
and  unprofitable  foundation  of  shame  and  mortification 
underlying  our  religious  life,  which  Christ  did  never 
place  there.  It  is  the  work  of  later  lives  than  his,  and 
I  thank  God  daily  that  there  are  sturdy  hands  that 
have  digged  their  way  to  this  substratum,  and  are 
casting  it  forth — such  men  as  these  among  us,  and 
Strauss  and  De  Wette  among  the  Germans,  and  Car- 
lyle  and  Wilkinson  among  the  Britons. 

"  I  see  a  new  day  dawning,  dear,  on  the  darkened 
religious  life — a  day  of  health  and  hope  and  peaceful 
growth." 

Thus  we  had  talked,  or,  rather,  she  had ;  for  I  had 
listened,  with  only  now  and  then  a  question,  to  lead 
her  on  ;  and  we  had  heard  no  heroism  but  our  own, 
when  poor  little  Phil  came  to  us  and  said  :  a  Mamma, 
dear,  won't  you  take  me  and  tell  me  a  story  ?  I  feel 
so  sorry." 

"  Sorry  for  what,  darling  ?" 

"  Betause  I  am  all  alone."  And  with  the  words 
came  the  irresistible  tide  of  tears. 

"  No,  no ;  not  alone,  dearest  little  one.  Here  is 
mamma,  and  there  is  Miss  Warren." 

"  But  Turnel  isn't  here,  nor  Misser  Darf,  nor  An- 
tono,  nor  Ching,  nor — " 

"Who  else,  dear  Philip?" 

"  Nor  Harry,  mamma " — weeping  bitterly  on  her 
bosom  ;  "  and  the  wind  blows,  and  its  all  gray  'tween 
here  and  the  other  houses." 

"  Dear  Philip,  does  the  little  heart  want  cheering, 
too?  It  shall  have  it.  Mamma  is  large  and  strong, 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  247 

and  she  loves  Philip  so  dearly — there,  like  that" — 
clasping  him  closer — "  and  he  shall  not  be  sorry ;  "  for 
to-morrow  morning  the  wind  won't  blow,  and  we  will 
have  a  pleasant  walk,  and,  may  be,  see  Antonio;  and 
the  gray  fog  will  be  all  gone,  and  how  happy  we  will 
be  in  the  sunshine  !"  Already  the  child's  face 
brightened. 

"  It  was  dreary  to  be  watching  so  long  and  still,  alone 
there,  my  darling.  Very  soon  we  will  have  a  lamp 
lighted,  and  then  we  will  shut  out  that  ugly-looking 
fog.  He  shan't  shake  his  dirty  gray  curtain  in  our 
faces  any  longer." 

"  No,"  said  Phil,  laughing ;  "  he  shan't  look  into 
our  nice  room,  shall  he  ?" 

"  Not  a  bit,  darling.  Shall  I  sing  '  Lady  Moon  ' 
very  softly  ?" 

a  Yes." 

And  she  sang,  low,  but  clear  and  distinct,  every 
syllable,  those  beautiful  crystal  lines  of  Milnes — 
adapting  the  words  to  her  own  musical  conception 
as  she  went  along.  She  had  a  sweet,  ringing  voice, 
and  I  was  even  comforted  myself  by  the  simple  per- 
formance. 

The  tea-bell  rang.  "  I  cannot  go  to  table,"  said 
Eleanore.  "  Let  us  be  extravagant  for  once,  and  order 
the  supper  in  our  room.  I  must  have  some  food,  for  to- 
morrow, you  know,  dear,  this  play  will  be  at  an  end, 
and  there  will  then  be  no  place  for  weak  hearts  and 
fainting  stomachs." 

"  Shall  I  go  down  and  give  the  order  ?" 

"  If  you  would  not  rather  have  me  do  it.  I  don't 
intend  to  put  all  the  disagremens  upon  you,  and  you 
have  certainly  taken  a  large  share  so  far." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  take  this  one  more ;"  and  I 
went. 


248  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

I  had  a  mind  to  have  a  nourishing,  yet  light  and 
wholesome  supper  for  her,  who  had  but  tasted  of 
luncheon  since  our  last  dinner  on  the  Garonne  ;  a  time 
that  seemed  long  enough  gone  to  have  starved  and 
buried  a  person  in.  I  asked  for  tea,  some  dry  toast,  a 
bit  of  nice  beefsteak  for  one,  and  a  boiled  egg. 

"  Don't  know  as  we  have  any  eggs,  ma'am,"  said 
the  waiter.  "  They're  very  scarce." 

"  How  dear  are  they  ?"  prudence  inquired,  using 
my  tongue. 

"  We  charge  half  a  dollar  a  piece,  ma'am." 

"  Then  get  one,  if  you  can,  and  send  for  the  child  a 
glass  of  milk.  Is  that  dear  ?" 

a  Three  bits  a  glass,  ma'am." 

"  Let  us  have  it,"  I  said,  in  a  kind  of  momentary 
recklessness  of  expense,  which  I  seemed  to  have  im- 
bibed already  in  the  air. 

I  took  a  lamp  and  returned,  asking  him  to  send  the 
supper  as  soon  as  it  could  be  prepared.  "  We  had 
better  go  with  cheerful  hearts  to  our  first  night's  rest," 
I  reasoned,  "  if  it  does  cost  something." 

Eleanore  agreed  in  this,  and  while  we  were  waiting, 
I  tidied  the  room  in  further  respect  to  our  gastronomy, 
while  she  told  fairy  stories  to  Phil,  and  kept  him  awake 
for  supper.  At  last  it  came.  The  egg  was  from  over 
seas,  and  could  not  be  eaten ;  the  milk  had  a  strong 
flavor  of  water,  and  the  butter  had  not  come  from  the 
dairy  that  week,  certainly.  But  the  steak  was  tolera- 
ble, the  bread  good,  and  the  tea  worthy  the  nearest 
neighbor  of  China — delicious,  aromatic,  subtile  ;  on  the 
whole  a  very  good  supper,  we  agreed :  the  most  sub- 
stantial satisfaction  to  all,  I  think,  being  derived  from 
Phil's  exceeding  joy  over  his  milk. 

"That  idea  was  an  inspiration,  Anna,"  said   his 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  249 

mother,  "  and  I  am  very  grateful  to  the  kind  spirit 
who  gave  it  you ;  for  we  were  needing  some  sound 
comfort  very  much.  I  should  not  like  to  see  any  de- 
pression or  heart-sinking  there,  not  even  for  a  day  ;  and 
we  have  to  supply  the  place  of  many  devoted  friends." 

When  the  supper  was  over,  Phil  went  around  the 
bed  to  his  mother's  basket,  and  returning  with  his  box 
of  dominoes,  said,  with  a  smile  that  was  half  shame  at 
the  demand,  and  half  pleasure  at  feeling  warranted  in 
making  it :  "  JSTow,  mamma,  I  believe  you  can  play  a 
game  with  me — can't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  love ;  but  if  I  should  beat  S" 

"  Oh,  you  won't.     Turnel  never  beats  me." 

And  so  a  mock  game  was  gone  through,  with  alter- 
nations of  great  solemnity  and  mirth  ;  and  then,  with 
more  stories  and  "  Lady  Moon "  repeated,  Phil  was 
laid  asleep.  Eleanore  and  I  sat  and  talked  long  after, 
partly  of  speculative,  but  more  of  practical  and  near 
affairs  ;  and  finally  parted  to  our  respective  beds,  with 
a  warm  embrace. 

"  Our  first  night  here,"  she  said ;  "  and  it  closes  in, 
dreary  and  lonely,  upon  us — does  it  not  ?  This  damp, 
chilling  fog,  assails  my  cheerfulness  sadly.  It  would 
be  much  easier  to  weep  than  refrain." 

"  Don't  you  think  of  it,"  said  I ;  "  but  let  us  sleep 
early,  that  we  may  begin  the  day  clear  and  strong  to- 
morrow." 

I  have  not  mentioned  one  feature  of  our  position — 
a  very  disagreeable  one — which  was,  that,  as  to  sound, 
there  was  no  privacy  in  the  house.  We  heard  the 
incessant  hum  of  talk  from  the  bar-room,  rising  occa- 
sionally into  loud  and  revolting  profanity ;  every  word 
spoken  in  the  passage  leading  to  our  room ;  and,  when 
the  inmate  of  the  next  apartment  came  in,  every  move- 


250  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

nient  there  was  as  audible  to  us  as  if  he  had  been  in 
our  own.  I  had  not  thought  so  much  of  this  during 
the  day,  but  now,  when  I  laid  down  to  sleep,  and 
went  to  thinking  instead,  it  seemed  a  fearful  thing 
to  be  thus,  as  it  were,  under  the  inspection  of  so  many 
surrounding  ears,  and  the  involuntary  hearer  of  so 
much  that  one  would  gladly  be  ignorant  of.  Separa- 
tion effected  by  walls  of  cotton-cloth  and  paper  !  said 
I,  mentally.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  coarse  people 
should  become  coarser  here. 

I  lay  long  awake,  hearkening  to  the  horrid  sounds, 
with  a  kind  of  fascination  for  them  which  I  seemed 
unable  to  resist — the  talk  from  below  and  from  the 
street,  and  when  these  died  away  for  a  moment,  the 
heavy  breath  of  sleepers  in  our  neighborhood.  At  last 
I  was  relieved  by  hearing  near  me  a  soft,  but  measured 
breathing,  in  the  lengthening  pauses  of  other  sounds, 
and  then  I  knew  that  Eleanore  slept. 

"  Poor  Eleanore !"  I  said,  with  a  heart-ache  for  her; 
"  poor  Eleanore !  What  a  brave  soul  it  is  !  and  how 
thick  and  fierce  the  storm  that  beats  upon  it !" 


CHAPTEK     XXXI. 

I  was  awakened  by  the  touch  of  a  hand  upon  my 
forehead,  and  I  opened  my  eyes  to  see  by  the  dim,  soft 
light  of  the  early  morning,  Mrs.  Bromfield  standing 
by  me,  already  dressed,  and  with  a  cheerful,  calm,  al- 
most happy  face. 

"  Dear  Anna,"  she  said,  "  rise.  The  morning  is 
like  a  dream  of  Fairy  Land.  It  is  the  hour  of  God's 
own  reign.  Let  us  go  out  early,  before  the  streets  are 
again  filled.  I  see  the  flush  of  day  over  those  hills  be- 
yond the  water,  and  the  air  has  the  peace  and  stillness 
of  heaven.  Such  a  contrast  to  the  dreary  raging  of  the 
evening !" 

I  rose,  and  while  I  was  making  my  toilet,  Phil 
was  awakened  and  brought  to  a  sense  of  the  pleasure 
before  him.  There  were  few  people  yet  moving  in 
the  streets,  and  when  we  stepped  out  into  the  delicious 
Sabbath  stillness,  an  earnest  thanksgiving  for  that  hour, 
and  its  beauty  and  peace,  went  up  from  my  soul. 

"  Where  shall  we  go  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Up  the  hill,  by  all  means,"  was  the  reply ;  and 
we  turned  to  our  left. 

The  grocer — my  own  and  Phil's  acquaintance  of  the 
day  before — was  just  opening  his  shop,  and  he  accosted 
us  with  such  interest  and  satisfaction,  that  his  little 
friend  was  fain  to  stop  a  moment. 

"  Fine  morning  ladies,"  said  the  man,  bowing. 


252  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  Very  beautiful,"  replied  Eleanore,  assured  by  his 
honest  face  and  unquestionable  voice  and  manner ;  "  it 
is  a  great  change  from  last  evening,  sir." 

"  Yes ;  but  that's  the  regular  way  here,  madam. 
Such  mornings  and  evenings  all  summer.  One  half 
the  day  makes  up  for  the  other,  ma'am ;  so  I  say  it's  a 
fine  climate,  though  I  don't  like  the  wind." 

"  Does  it  blow  so  every  afternoon  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Every  one,  ma'am,  as  sure  as  the  sun  rises.  But 
we're  just  as  sure  of  such  a  morning  after  it.  You  are 
right  to  be  out  early  with  this  little  fellow ;  and  if 
you  want  a  pleasant  walk,  and  are  strangers,  as  I  guess 
you  are,  I'll  tell  you  of  one  that  you  won't  often  find 
the  equal  of  anywhere.  Just  go  up  this  street  till  you 
come  to  the  third  one  running  across  it ;  that's  Stock- 
ton ;  and  then  turn  to  your  right.  It'll  lead  you  to 
the  water,  just  outside  of  Telegraph  Hill,  and  there 
isn't  a  prettier  sight,  of  a  morning,  in  all  America." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Eleanore.  And  we  moved 
along. 

"  Stop  a  moment,  ma'am,  if  you  please.  My  little 
friend  here  will  be  glad  of  a  cracker  before  he  gets 
back."  And  he  led  Phil  inside,  who,  when  he  re- 
turned, looked  like  a  perambulating  commissariat  in 
miniature. 

"  I've  got  such  a  lot,  mamma,"  he  said. 

"  But,  my  darling,  you  should  have  taken  only  three 
or  four." 

"  But  he  did  put  them  all  in ;  he  would,  dear 
mamma ;  don't  you  think  he's  very  good  ?" 

"  Yes,  Phil,  very  good,  indeed ;  but  you  must 
tell  him,  next  time,  not  to  give  you  so  much ;  and 
you  may  tell  him  that  mamma  doesn't  wish  you  to 
take  it." 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  253 

"I  will,"  he  said,  "  but  I  believe  he  likes  to  do  it." 

This  was  always  Phil's  ultimatum ;  his  final  argu- 
ment lay  in  "  I  believe,"  which  seemed  to  express  an 
inmost  and  irrefragible  truth.  There  was  no  gainsay- 
ing that. 

"  Is  not  this  beautiful  beyond  imagination  ?"  said 
Eleanore,  as  we  rose  the  hight,  and  turned  to  look 
down  upon  the  city  and  the  bay,  and  the  hills  beyond : 
over  which  the  sun  was  just  rising,  through  a  sea  of 
daffodil  and  rosy  air. 

We  passed  Brenham  Place,  at  the  head  of  the 
Plaza,  and  the  large  zinc  post-office  on  the  corner, 
which  we  knew  by  the  waste  wrappers  and  rubbish  ly- 
ing heaped  in  all  the  little  sheltered  nooks  and  angles 
about  it.  This  reminded  us,  that,  in  the  multiplied 
experiences  of  the  day  before,  we  had  entirely  forgot- 
ten that  there  existed  a  mail  and  post-office  in  the 
country.  "  There  were  no  signs  of  any  one  moving  in 
it  yet,  or  I  should  wish  to  go  in,"  I  said. 

"  Not  till  we  come  back,  dear,"  said  my  friend ; 
"  with  all  this  before  us,  we  can  well  afford  to  defer  for 
an  hour  any  pleasurable  tidings ;  and  we  do  not  want 
any  painful  ones  now." 

Past  Dnpont  Street,  where  already  the  fantastic 
figures  of  beings  who  might  have  sat  for  the  pictures 
on  our  mothers'  old-fashioned  china,  were  gathering  to 
their  own  exclusive  kingdom  ;  past  a  few  smart-look- 
ing new  houses,  and  many  cloth  and  rough  board 
shanties ;  and  here,  at  a  good  elevation  above  the  bay, 
we  are  in  Stockton  Street. 

We  turn  to  the  right.  There  are  some  fine  brick 
buildings  going  up  on  the  upper  side  of  this  broad 
avenue,  which,  from  its  position  and  width,  looks  as  if 
it  might  by-and-by  become  the  Fifth  Avenue  of  San 


THE* 


IDEAL    ATTAINED. 


Francisco.  We  walk  along,  still  rising  a  little,  and 
passing  butchers'  stalls,  groceries,  and  drinking-shops, 
on  the  steps  of  which  stand  young  men  whose  eyes 
plead  for  rest,  and  whose  neglected,  debauched  faces, 
tell  a  painful  tale  of  the  last  few  hours.  No  women 
but  ourselves  yet  in  sight,  and  every  eye  scrutinizing 
us  —  every  door  occupied  as  we  pass.  Now  we  leave  the 
buildings  behind  us,  descending  toward  North  Beach, 
and  there  before  us  lies  the  passage  into  the  harbor  — 
a  broad  belt  of  peaceful  blue  water,  dotted  with  sails, 
and  just  bordered,  under  the  bold  hills  opposite,  with 
the  golden  light  which  lies  upon  them.  The  water 
and  its  sails,  with  Angel  Island  and  the  environing 
shore  beyond,  are  a  picture,  framed  ruggedly  on  the 
right  by  Telegraph  Hill,  and  on  the  left  by  the  rising 
land  of  Clark's  Point. 

"  How  entirely  calm,  how  beautiful,  how  pure  it 
is  !"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  Eleanore  ;  "  and  seeing  it,  I  wonder  that 
even  common  natures  can  lay  hold  upon  degradation 
with  such  relish,  when  a  sermon  like  this  is  preached 
daily  to  them  in  this  grand  cathedral.  See  those  white 
gulls  skimming  the  water,  suggesting  the  near  neigh- 
borhood of  the  awful  but  unseen  sea.  I  never  felt  my 
heart  so  wholly  satisfied  with  Nature  as  at  this  mo- 
ment." 

We  went  quite  down  to  the  beach,  where  the  surf 
of  the  incoming  tide  lapsed  upon  the  sands,  in  a  music 
gentle  and  sweet,  as  became  the  place  and  the  hour. 
Phil  sat  down  upon  a  pile  of  boards  and  munched  his 
crackers,  while  his  mother  and  I  stood  and  filled  our 
souls  with  the  scene. 

"  I  am  always  a  Pantheist  at  such  hours  as  this," 
said  she.  "  God  smiles  upon  me  from  the  water,  and 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  255 

the  floating  clouds,  and  the  fair  earth.  I  feel  him  in 
them.  The  whole  universe  is  quick  with  his  presence, 
and  breathes  it  into  my  heart.  I  do  not  wonder  that 
the  sentiment  of  the  Beautiful  in  those  wonderful  old 
Greeks  culminated  in  their  Pantheon — their  temple  to 
all  the  gods.  Their  climate  must  have  been  like  this, 
Anna;  and  one  could  fancy  them  present,  drawn 
hither,  after  the  ages  of  their  unfolding,  by  sympathy 
with  an  earth-life,  which  is  destined,  perhaps,  to  re- 
produce, on  the  developed  plane,  the  perfect  type  of 
which  they  were  the  archetype." 

I  smiled  at  the  fancy,  and  she  said :  "  I  give  it  only 
for  what  it  may  be  worth  to  you,  as,  indeed,  we  must 
take  all  fancy  and  all  thought ;  but  for  me,  I  love  to 
feel  that  the  glorious  spirits  of  old,  made  more  glorious 
by  their  super-earthly  experiences,  do  sometimes  hover 
near  us,  retaining  their  ancient  sympathies  with  this 
life,  as  we  with  infancy,  because  we  once  were  infants. 
I  think  it  might  be  reasonably  and  beautifully  so ;  but 
whether  Phidias  and  Sophocles  are  near  us  at  this  mo- 
ment or  not,  this  earth  and  this  sky  and  this  air 
seem  to  me  palpitating  with  life,  and  the  power  to  im- 
part it." 

"  One  could  certainly  bear  a  good  deal  in  a  country 
of  such  rich  and  perfect  compensations,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  anything,"  she  replied ;  and  her  eye  glowed 
with  an  enthusiasm  that  beamed  from  its  depths,  as 
the  cool  darkness  of  the  waters  before  us  was  visible 
through  the  sunshine  that  lay  upon  their  surface. 
"  I  would  not  call  martyrdom  by  that  name,  if  it 
befell  me  here,  with  the  Father's  smile  thus  beaming 
upon  me." 

"  Nevertheless,"  I  said,  "  we  shall  find  trials  here." 

"  Oh,  trials  enough — heavy  and  sad  enough,  dear 


256  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

Anna,  to  make  us  at  times  indifferent  to  what  we  feel 
so  keenly  now.  These  high  hours  come  to  us  only 
when  the  soul  is  attuned  by  courage  which  means 
resignation — not  in  the  meek,  but  lofty  and  uppermost 
sense.  I  am  never  resigned  to  life,  as  a  whole,  but  at 
such  moments,  and  then  I  am  entirely  feeling  the  lit- 
tleness of  human  effort  in  the  midst  of  so  much  grand 
work  already  done ;  feeling,  too,  that  nothing  can  ulti- 
mately fail  which  is  shaped  and  wrought  by  the  Power 
and  Love  that  speak  to  us  there." 

"  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  that  all  natures  have  ex- 
periences of  corresponding  rest  and  hopefulness. 
Every  soul  must  be  consciously  so  addressed,  at  times, 
by  the  visible  ;  and  how,  then,  can  we  solve  that  base- 
ness, which,  like  a  relentless  and  virulent  disease, 
returns  to  seize  again  and  again  upon  the  life  ?" 

"It  is  not  penetrated,"  she  said.  "  The  air  of 
purification  and  kindling  only  plays  upon  and  over  it, 
as  the  rays  of  that  morning  sun  go  rioting  joyfully  over 
those  far  hills,  but  do  not  stay  to  search  out  and  illu- 
minate the  valleys  between  them.  That  is  the  office 
of  later  and  mature  hours — which,  alas!  never  come  to 
the  debased  soul,  in  the  brief  audiences  it  gives  to  Na- 
ture. But  I  believe  that  sermons  could  be  preached 
to  sinful  hearts  before  this  altar,  that  would  touch  them 
more  deeply  and  effectually  than  those  which  are 
uttered  upon  printed  texts,  within  buildings  made  of 
men's  hands." 

There  were  people  approaching  us — some  laborers 
and  some  idlers — and  so  our  hour  of  tranquillity  ended. 
It  was  long  till  we  saw  another  such. 

Passing  homeward,  at  the  corner  of  Jackson  Street 
we  met  a  troop  of  little  children,  with  books  in  their 
hands.  Phil's  eyes  dilated  with  joy,  and  we  were 
scarcely  less  gladdened  at  the  sight. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  257 

"  Where  are  you  going,  my  child  ?"  I  asked  of  a 
little  girl,  rather  untidy  and  neglected-looking,  but 
with  a  frank,  clear  face. 

"  To  school,  ma'am,"  she  replied,  dropping  the  very 
ghost  of  a  very  little  courtesy. 

"  To  school !     Where,  pray  ?" 

"  There,  ma'am,"  with  the  same  motion,  pointing  to 
a  good-sized  house,  that  was  painted  brown,  "  in  Mr. 
'Unt's  church." 

"  Who  teaches  you  ?" 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Marsden,  ma'am." 

"  But  it  isn't  school-time  by  a  great  deal,"  I  said, 
looking  at  my  watch.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do  till 
your  teachers  come  ?" 

"  Play,  ma'am.     We  always  plays  in  the  morning." 

"  Are  there  many  of  you  ?" 

"  A  'ouse-full,  ma'am." 

And  even  while  we  stood  talking,  the  gathering 
troops  came  thronging  around  the  steps. 

"  Oh,  mamma,"  said  Phil,  delighted  immeasurably 
by  the  joyous  sight  and  sound  of  frolicsome  childhood, 
"  won't  you  take  me  to  'cool  ?" 

Mamma  endeavored  to  explain,  but  the  coveted  joy 
was  too  great  for  poor  Phil  to  understand  any  reason 
why  it  should  be  denied  him  ;  and  at  last  he  said,  very 
sadly,  as  feeling  himself  wronged :  "  Well,  I  believe 
Turnel  will  take  me  there." 

How  quickly  her  eyes  suffused  at  the  words !  "  It 
is  only  for  the  child,"  she  said,  as  I  glanced  at  her. 
"  I  am  more  pained  now  for  him  than  any  one  of  us. 
If  I  could  secure  his  comfort  and  welfare,  it  would 
take  a  heavy  burden  from  my  spirit. 

As  she  spoke,  we  were  drawing  near  our  hotel.  At 
every  step,  we  met  men  who  looked  into  our  faces,  as 
they  had  the  day  before — (but  how  much  less  it  wound- 


258  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

ed  us  now  than  then  !) — some  rudely,  some  inquir- 
ingly, and  some  with  open  admiration — of  Eleanore,  I 
mean.  You  understand  that  I  do  not  claim  to  have 
been  admired  ever,  though  once  there  was  one  who 
loved  me,  thank  God ! 

The  steps  in  front  of  our  house  were  crowded,  but  we 
made  our  way  without  looking  up,  with  Phil  between 
us  ;  and  just  as  we  reached  the  threshold,  we  heard  our- 
selves saluted  with :  "  Bon  jours,  mesdames !  Buenos 
dias !"  and,  last  of  all,  our  own  old  English  "  Good 
morning,  Mrs.  Bromn'eld — Miss  Warren !" — and  there 
stood,  tidy  and  smiling,  Antonio,  with  a  stout  round 
parcel  in  his  hand. 

You  may  be  sure  our  greeting  was  not  less  cordial 
than  his.  He  followed  us  into  the  parlor,  demon- 
strated over  Phil,  and  handed  me  the  parcel,  which 
was  directed  to  "Master  Philip  Bromfield,  care  of 
Miss  Warren."  I  suspected  immediately  from  whom 
it  came,  but  Antonio  did  not  speak.  He  stood  aside, 
while,  at  Phil's  request,  I  opened  the  accompanying 
note,  and  read  to  him  as  follows— he  listening  with  the 
most  becoming  and  serious  gravity : 

"  DEAR  PHIL  : 

"  I  send  you  this  box  of  figs  because  I  know  you 
like  them  ;  and  Antonio,  too,  because  you  like  him. 
Antonio  is  going  to  live  with  a  friend  of  mine — a  man 
as  good  as  Captain  Dahlgren — who  will  let  him  go  an 
hour  every  morning  and  take  you  a  walk.  Tell  your 
mamma  not  to  be  afraid.  Antonio  will  be  very  careful, 
and  he  wants  to  do  it " — (these  last  words  underscored, 
in  vague  and  tender  reference,  I  suppose,  to  the  past.) 
"  So  now  good-by,  Phil.  Don't  forget  me,  nor  how 
much  I  love  you. 

Your  friend,          THE   <  TURNEL.'  " 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  259 

Beneath  was  written  as  follows : 

"To  Miss  WARREN: 

"  For  the  sake  of  our  common  experiences  in  the 
time  that  is  gone,  and  for  another,  which  I  could  not 
disguise  from  you  if  I  would,  I  shall  take  the  liberty 
of  writing  you,  after  I  shall  have  reached  my  place  of 
destination,  and  looked  about  myself  a  little  there. 
Until  then,  I  am 

Yery  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

J.  LEONARD  ANDERSON." 

This  little  gift  and  note  comforted  us  greatly ; 
but  also  pained  Eleanore,  who,  thanking  Antonio, 
fled  to  our  room  faster  than  I  could  follow  her ;  and 
was  fiercely  struggling  to  beat  back  the  emotions  they 
had  awakened,  when  I  entered. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  Anna,"  she  said  ;  "  don't  tell 
me  of  his  kindness  and  magnanimity  in  thinking  of 
so  substantial  a  good  to  the  child  !  I  cannot  bear  it 
now.  The  gift  I  make  nothing  of — it  is  such  com- 
mon kindness  to  offer  a  child  what  will  gratify  its 
palate ;  but  the  thonghtfulness  of  sending  Antonio 
every  day,  is  so  like  a  generous,  noble  woman — and 
like  him,  too !  And  he  did  not  think  fit  to  address  the 
note  to  my  care !  I  know  he  had  no  reason  to,  and 
the  strongest  for  not  doing  it ;  and  yet — and  yet  I — 
no,  I  ought  not — " 

"  No,"  I  said  "  I  think  you  ought  not  to  expect  or 
desire  any  further  evidence  of  how  entirely  he  studies 
your  happiness,  while  you  ignore  his  as  bravely  as  any 
heartless,  conscienceless  coquette  of  them  all !" 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  she  said,  rising  by  a  great  effort 
above  her  emotions,  and  speaking  more  calmly  ;  "  I  do 


260  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

not  forget  his  happiness  any  whole  hour  of  the  day  ; 
but  I  yield,  perhaps,  too  wholly  to  my  subjective  rela- 
tion toward  him,  which  is  as  sacred  and  inseparable  as 
toward  God.  I  shall  clear  it  all  up  some  day,  Anna,  so 
that  you  will  be  satisfied  with  me,  which  I  know  you 
are  not  now. 

"  But  we  must  not  talk  of  what  will  take  away  our 
courage  for  the  day.  Let  us  go  to  breakfast,  and  then 
to  our  work ;  and  pray  do  not  speak  again  of  what 
will  call  this  up,  till  we  can  better  afford  it." 


CHAPTEE    XXXII. 

There  was  great  scarcity  of  water,  and  what  we 
had  was  of  abominable  hardness  and  flavor  ;  but 
as  I  said  of  our  supper,  there  was  delicious  tea  for 
breakfast ;  and  though  Eleanore  ordinarily  was  very 
abstinent,  she  now  braced  herself  with  a  large  cup  of 
it.  Antonio  still  remained,  for  he  was  not  to  com- 
mence his  service  till  next  day,  and  would  stay  with 
Phil  as  long  as  he  wished  him  to.  So  we  sallied  forth, 
leaving  them  in  occupation  of  our  room,  with  the  free- 
dom of  the  passages  and  parlor.  The  first  quest  was 
a  boarding  place,  and  I,  with  a  sort  of  amour  de  corps, 
proposed  going  to  see  the  school-teachers.  "  They 
must  have  been  here  some  time,"  I  said ;  "  they  must 
be  respectable  and  safe  persons,  and  have  a  large  ac- 
quaintance." 

"  Really,  Anna,  for  practical  matters — not  to  dis- 
parage you  in  others — you  fall  little  short  of  perfect  at 
times,"  said  Eleanore.  "  That,  now,  is  a  lucky  and 
sound  idea,  which,  I  suppose,  would  never  have  oc- 
curred to  me." 

We  proceeded  to  prove  its  value  at  once.  The 
school-doors  were  open,  and  the  hum  of  voices  greeted  us 
at  the  corner,  several  yards  off.  It  was  a  welcome 
sound  to  me,  for  I  love  a  school. 

"  In  the  future  world,  I  think,  your  employment  will 
be  teaching,"  said  Eleanore,  as  we  went  up  the  steps. 


262  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  I  hope  so." 

The  little  English  girl  had  told  us  there  was  a 
u  'ouse-full  " — and  so  it  was  :  running  over,  indeed. 

Mr.  Marsden  came  forward  and  received  us,  as  if 
accustomed  to  see  visitors  there.  He  was  engaged  with 
a  class  in  the  front  part  of  the  room,  while  his  wife 
heard  one  from  the  desk  below  the  pulpit.  We  stopped 
a  moment  at  his  place,  and  then  availed  ourselves  of 
his  polite  invitation  to  walk  back  and  take  seats. 

As  we  passed  along  the  aisle,  between  the  ranks 
of  little  faces,  Eleanore  said  :  "  It  was  nothing  less 
than  an  inspiration  that  sent  us  here.  Look  at  the 
sweet  candor  and  purity  of  that  woman's  counte- 
nance !" 

We  sat  down,  and  talked  in  her  moments  of  leisure, 
which  were  few  and  short,  till  a  class  was  called  to 
read.  "  Anna,"  said  my  friend,  as  they  were  taking 
their  seats,  suppose  you  indulge  yourself  in  the  luxury 
of  hearing  those  children,  and  let  me  speak  to  Mrs. 
Marsden."  Then,  turning  to  her :  "  My  friend,  Miss 
Warren,"  she  said,  "is  an  experienced  teacher,  and 
she  proposes  to  rest  you  for  a  little  space  by  hearing 
that  class." 

"  Thank  you,"  was  the  willing  reply  ;  and  she  gave 
me  the  book. 

Before  the  exercise  was  done,  I  saw,  by  glancing  at 
them  from  time  to  time,  that  they  had  settled  all  in- 
quiries, at  least  to  Eleanore's  satisfaction.  Her  face 
was  bright,  and  Mrs.  Marsden  seemed  equally  pleased, 
as  they  announced  to  me  that  they  had  arranged,  and 
we  were  to  go  at  once  to  her  own  house,  she  fortunately 
having  a  vacant  room. 

"  And  no  boarders,"  said  Eleanore. 

"  I  had,  perhaps,  better  speak  to  my  husband,"  said 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  263 

the  good  lady,  coloring  at  our  enthusiasm.     "  Can  you 
give  me  any  reference  ?" 

"  Mr.  Haydon— Kichard  Haydon." 

"  Oh,  he  was  a  friend  of  Henry's,"  she  said ;  and  with 
the  word,  she  summoned  him  by  a  look,  and  told  him 
of  our  arrangements,  and  that  we  were  acquaintances 
of  Mr.  Haydon's. 

"  He  was  my  uncle,"  said  Eleanore. 

Hereupon  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Marsden  both  offered  cor- 
dial hands,  as  to  an  old  friend.  "  We  ought  to  know 
you,"  said  Mr.  M.,  "  for  we  have  heard  often  enough 
of  you,  from  your  uncle,  who  was  a  good  friend  of  ours. 
We  shall  take  pleasure  in  making  you  both  feel  your- 
selves at  home,  as  far  as  is  in  our  power." 

After  a  little  further  friendly  talk,  we  took  leave,  to 
go  on  our  shopping ;  and  at  noon  Mr.  Marsden  was  to 
come  to  the  hotel  and  accompany  us  to  his  house. 
Mrs.  M.  had  given  us  directions  where  to  go,  and  shown 
the  utmost  kindness  in  everything ;  and  we  went  away 
from  her  very  much  cheered  and  encouraged. 

"  How  fast  the  world  loses  its  hard,  unfriendly  as- 
pect," said  I,  "  when  we  see  it  through  the  medium 
of  kind  hearts,  and  feel  there  is  a  spot  near  us  that  we 
can  call  home !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Eleanore;  "  the  wind" — which  was  al- 
ready sending  forth  short  but  sharp  blasts  of  warning 
— "  will  not  be  so  dreary  by  many  degrees  to-day  as  it 
was  yesterday.  Even  these  men  look  better  to  me,  and 
I  feel  less  put  down  by  the  sight  of  that  group  of  unfor- 
tunates flaunting  through  the  square  than  I  did  before 
I  saw  that  dear,  good  creature." 

In  short,  we  were  very  much  lifted  out  of  onr  anx- 
ieties and  depression  by  this  fortunate  meeting.  We 
stopped  and  saw  Phil  and  Antonio  a  few  minutes,  and 


264  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

called  for  our  bill,  that  we  might  know  how  much  we 
had  to  pay  out  before  making  further  expenditures. 
"  For  we  must  not  let  our  finances  become  deranged 
or  complicated,"  said  Eleanore,  laughing  in  her  re- 
newed spirits. 

The  clerk  came  and  delivered  it,  with  a  gentle- 
manly bow,  and  had  his  pen  in  hand,  ready  to  receipt 
it.  As  I  had  bargained  for  the  room,  I  took  it  into 
my  own  hand.  It  was  "  lumped  "  all  together — two 
and  a  half  days'  board,  thirty  dollars. 

"  That  is  not  according  to  the  charge  I  agreed  on," 
said  I,  "  when  I  took  the  room." 

"  It  is  No.  9  I  think  you  have ;  a  double  room — is 
it  not?" 

"Yes." 

"  Eight  dollars  a  day  for  each  of  you  ;  six  for  the 
child.  Luncheon  and  supper  in  your  room,  with 
milk  and  eggs,  extra — thirty  dollars !  That's  right, 
ma'am." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  I  asked,  determined 
not  to  be  imposed  on  without  resistance,  "  that  our 
having  supper  in  our  room,  with  an  egg  which  could 
not  be  eaten,  and  a  glass  of  milk  extra,  makes  an  addi- 
tion of  eight  dollars  to  your  bill  ?" 

"  That's  the  bill,  ma'am,"  he  replied. 

Eleanore  had  taken  out  her  purse  and  counted  the 
money,  which  she  gave  him,  saying,  "  Such  things 
seem  a  little  strange  to  us,  because  we  are  fresh  from 
the  country  where  shillings  stand  for  dollars  here. 
I  think  your  charge  is  unjust,  but  that  is  more  your 
concern  than  mine." 

"  Pray,  madam,"  he  said,  deferentially,  touched, 
I  suppose,  by  a  certain  loftiness  in  her  tone — which 
challenged  his  pride,  instead  of  his  avarice — "  as  I 
had—" 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  265 

"  Not  a  word  more,"  she  said  ;  "  we  will  call  at 
noon  for  our  things ;  and  meanwhile  I  will  leave  my 
little  son  and  the  boy  here." 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  "  anything  that  would  ac- 
commodate us." 

And  I  have  no  doubt  he  was  more  anxious  at  that 
moment  to  get  rid  of  three  or  four  of  those  eight 
dollars,  than  he  had  before  been  to  get  them. 

We  had  been  directed  to  Clay,  below  Kearney 
Street,  for  our  shopping ;  and  there  we  found  half  a 
dozen  or  more  stores,  filled  mostly  with  goods  of  very 
costly  kinds — elegant  silks,  satins,  velvets,  laces,  and 
embroideries,  worthy  the  notice  of  duchesses,  rather 
than  of  two  poor  women  like  ourselves. 

"  The  difficulty  we  find,  sir,"  said  Eleanore,  to  a 
pertinacious  and  almost  impudent  shopman,  "is  not 
that  your  goods  are  not  elegant ;  they  are  too  much 
so  for  either  our  taste  or  means.  I  do  not  want  those 
costly  pattern-silks,  but  a  plain,  handsome  black  silk, 
which  is  good." 

"  Here  it  is  then — a  German  boiled  silk,  ma'am — 
yard  wide — splendid  shade  and  quality — eight  dollars 
a  yard." 

u  It  is  too  good  and  too  expensive." 

"  Then,  I  think,  ma'am,  we  couldn't  suit  you  "- 
with  a  palpable  sneer. 

"  There  is  a  piece  of  Gros  de  Naples,"  said  an- 
other and  more  respectful  young  man,  laying  a  piece 
before  us. 

"  Would  you  have  the  goodness  to  remain  and  serve 
us  ?"  she  asked  him. 

"  Certainly,  ma'am."  And  the  other  fell  back  with 
a  mortified  scowl. 

There  was  an  opposite  counter,  where  some  of  the 
12 


266  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

hooded  sisters,  with  enormous  purses,  filled  with  large 
gold  coins,  were  buying  the  most  expensive  em- 
broidered robes,  at  a  hundred  and  a  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  a  piece,  with  as  much  non  chalance  as  we  would 
have  selected  cotton  cloths.  It  was  plain  why  the 
young  man  with  the  sneer  could  not  patiently  serve 
ladies  who  were  avowedly  unable  to  buy  even  a  forty 
or  fifty  dollar  dress. 

We  at  last  succeeded,  with  the  help  of  the  civil 
clerk,  in  finding  that  which  pleased  us  well,  and  which 
we  could  afford  to  purchase — each  of  us  a  black  silk, 
and  then,  in  colors,  two  patterns  each  of  what  best 
suited  us. 

One  of  our  unfortunate  neighbors  came  across  —by 
way  of  amusing  herself,  I  suppose — and  stood  next  to 
Eleanore,  almost  crowding  against  her.  She  did  not 
draw  back  haughtily,  as  I  expected  to  see  her,  but 
yielded  gently  the  room  required  ;  and,  after  standing 
so  a  moment,  turned  her  face  full  upon  the  girl — who 
still  pressed  toward  her — and  looking  seriously  into 
her  eyes,  asked,  in  a  quiet,  and  not  unkind  tone : 

"  Would  you  like  to  look  at  these  goods  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you,"  was  the  pert  reply. 

"  Then,  perhaps  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  give 
me  and  my  friend  room  for  a  few  minutes  more." 

And  her  unpleasant  neighbor  walked  away  in  silence 
to  her  companions. 

We  had  still  the  milliner  and  shoe-stores  to  visit — 
both  formidable  undertakings,  as  well  to  our  patience 
as  our  fast-diminishing  purses.  Eleanore,  indeed,  had 
insisted,  or,  rather,  in  her  usual  way,  without  insist- 
ing, had  paid  all  my  purchases  at  the  first  shop ;  and 
when  all  was  settled,  she  had  something  over  a  hun- 
dred dollars  left,  and  I  about  fifty. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  267 

"  Not  a  large  capital,  dear  Anna,  to  begin  to  live 
with — even  at  the  prudent  rate  of  sixteen  dollars  a 
week.  We  shall  have  to  find  something  to  do  very 
soon." 

"  Yes ;  but,  first,  we  must  get  ourselves  into  better 
garments.  "We  will  not  think  of  work  outside  our 
own  room  for  the  next  ten  days ;  for  now  you  must 
prove  the  artistic  skill  you  once  boasted  to  me  as  a 
mantua-maker.  It  would  leave  us  penniless  to  hire 
these  dresses  made  up." 

"  I  did  not  think  of  doing  it,"  she  said  ;  "  for  Mrs. 
Marsden,  whose  word  has  already  become  a  canon 
with  me,  said,  in  answer  to  my  question  about  those 
things,  that  the  heaviest  expense  of  clothing,  here, 
was  the  making.  So  we  will  even  sit  down  to  it  our- 
selves." 

"  And  when  it  is  over,  dear  Eleanore,  I  have  hope 
of  your  getting  pupils  in  music.  Poor  Mrs.  Farley, 
you  know,  said  her  sister  had  two  daughters  here,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  they  are  people  of  condition.  When 
we  call  to  see  them,  why,  something  may  come  of  it — 
who  knows  ?" 

"  Ah !  who  knows  ?  But  here  we  are.  Now,  I 
hope  Mr.  Marsden  has  come,  and  that  there  will  be  no 
delay  in  getting  to  our  new  quarters." 

He  was  there  already,  and  we  found  also  a  vast 
politeness  awaiting  us  from  the  clerk,  who  had  evi- 
dently taken  some  data  from  our  new  friend. 

"  Mr.  Haydon  was  as  much  respected  here,"  said 
this  gentleman,  "  as  any  rich  man  who  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  be  thoroughly  honest  could  be.  The  hour 
of  his  death  made  him  poor,  I  suppose ;  but  you  will 
always  find  his  name  secure  respect  among  those  who 
knew  him." 


268  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  That  is  a  valuable  legacy  to  have  left  those  who 
cared  for  him,"  said  Eleanore,  seriously. 

"  The  young  man  here  tells  me,"  said  Mr.  Mars- 
den,  "  that  Mr. ,  your  uncle's  former  banker,  called 

this  morning,  during  your  absence.  Shall  I  leave  your 
address  here?" 

"  Thank  you,  no.  I  know  nobody,  and  the  few 
persons  that  I  may  wish  to  see,  I  will  send  to." 

"  Mr.  Hendrickson,"  I  suggested. 

"  If  I  wish  to  see  him,"  she  said,  "  which  is  very 
improbable,  I  can  send  for  him.  I  do  not  care  that  he 
should  feel  himself  generally  invited." 


OHAPTEK    XXXIII. 

Thus  leaving  the  ways  closed  after  us,  as  we 
thought,  we  departed  to  the  new  home.  Antonio  led 
and  carried  Phil  indefatigably,  with  baskets,  parcels, 
and  shawls,  which  he  insisted  upon  taking  from  us ; 
and  Mr.  Marsden,  who  was  really  exceedingly  kind, 
bore  sundry  other  parcels,  and  gave  us  an  arm  each  ; 
and  at  last  we  had  mounted  the  sand-hill  high  up  Cal- 
ifornia Street,  and  stood  at  his  door. 

What  a  magnificent  view  from  it !  The  labor  was 
well  repaid,  though  it  was  severe. 

"  It  is  better  doing  it  now,"  he  said,  "  with  this 
wind,  than  in  a  warm  morning.  You  complain  of  the 
wind,  but  it  is  very  useful  to  Mrs.  Marsden  and  me." 

We  entered.  There  was  the  dear,  good  lady,  with 
her  dinner  ready,  and  a  nice,  tidy-looking  Yankee  girl, 
who  had  cooked  it,  darting  in  and  out,  laying  it  on  the 
table — as  much  like  home  as  we  could  imagine  it  to  be 
in  so  far-off  and  peculiar  a  country.  We  had  a  nice 
room  up  stairs,  with  a  little  temporary  bed  for  Phil ; 
and  there  we  sat  down  and  worked  without  ceasing  for 
nearly  two  weeks ;  seeing  nothing  of  persons,  except 
the  quiet  family  of  which  we  were  a  part ;  and  little 
of  anything,  but  the  city  which  lay  beneath  our  eye, 
and  grew  visibly  from  day  to  day.  Forests  of  shipping 
crowded  the  magnificent  harbor,  wharves  were  shoot- 
ing out  at  the  foot  of  all  the  principal  streets,  and  the 


270  THE   IDEAL  ATTAINED. 

clang  of  building,  pile-driving,  excavating,  and  filling, 
resounded  from  early  morning  till  dark.  Every  day 
dawned  right  over  against  us  with  the  same  majestic 
tranquillity  we  had  felt  on  the  first,  and  closed  with  a 
wind  that  only  varied  a  little  from  one  to  another  in 
fierceness,  and  sometimes  brought  back  the  fog,  which 
Phil  called  the  gray  air. 

We  felt  that  we  were  part  and  parcel  of  a  wonder- 
ful life,  concentrated  on  this  hitherto  unknown  spot, 
and  of  a  development  equally  wonderful.  For  not- 
withstanding all  that  was  disheartening,  and  even 
shocking  and  disgusting,  in  much  that  we  heard — 
chiefly  through  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Marsden — one  could  not 
but  feel,  in  the  energy  that  was  here  putting  itself 
forth,  a  root  of  soundness  which  would  anchor  the  life, 
despite  the  raging  sea  of  selfishness,  sensuality,  and 
greed,  that  swept  over  and  threatened  to  obliterate  it. 

But  what  grand  affirmation  sprung  from  Eleanore's 
strong  hope  in  those  dark  days  !  "  I  have  no  fear," 
she  would  say,  "  but  ultimately  there  will  be  found 
here  the  grandest  outgrowth  and  illustration  of  the 
Republican  Idea.  For  where  should  all  the  men  of  a 
State  come  up  to  that  standard  so  naturally  and  uni- 
formly, as  in  such  a  land  and  clime,  which  neither 
pampers  nor  impoverishes — neither  enervates  nor 
stints?  Depend  upon  it,  dear,  though  we  may  not 
live  to  see  it,  there  will  one  day  throng  these  plains 
and  hills  and  valleys,  the  noblest  people  on  the  globe. 
Art  will  flourish,  because  the  love  of  the  Beautiful  will 
grow  into  all  souls,  and  wealth  will  nourish  it  with 
culture  and  refinement.  There  will  be  a  sound  and 
perfect  physical  life — free  from  the  lassitude  of  the 
warmer  climates  and  from  the  destroying  diseases  en- 
gendered in  our  Atlantic  colds  and  heats.  They  will 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  271 

have  all  the  advantages  of  a  commercial  people,  which 
our  rich  Western  States  are  deprived  of;  and,  living 
where  the  generosity  of  Nature  forbids  the  idea  of 
etint  or  limit,  they  will  be  provoked  to  emulate  her. 
Civilization,  marching  westward  with  the  ages,  has 
now  encompassed  the  globe.  Some  of  its  best  religious 
life,  its  highest  courage  and  largest  aspiration  for  free- 
dom, came  to  the  rugged  eastern  shore  of  our  conti- 
nent two  centuries  ago,  and  thence  the  movement  has 
been  steady  into  better  and  better  natural  conditions : 
richer  soils,  lands  more  easily  reclaimed,  larger  ex- 
panses— more  generous  causes,  with  results  of  corre- 
sponding character ;  which,  if  they  produce  in  the  first 
generations  a  rudeness  and  careless  obliteration  of  the 
sharply  graven  lines  of  the  perfect  character,  do  also 
forbid  the  exiguities  that  have  stamped  the  Atlantic 
man  the  world  over.  The  Yankee  sharpness  and  assi- 
duity were  a  valuable  root  on  which  to  engraft  the 
heedless  largeness  of  the  Western  soul ;  the  two  may 
be  several  generations  in  blending  into  a  harmonious 
and  beautiful  one,  but  they  will  ultimately — while  here 
we  have,  it  seems  to  me,  all  the  elements  of  an  early 
development.  Physically,  the  healthiest  people  of 
every  nation  come  here  :  no  invalids  mix  with  and  per- 
petuate their  imperfect  life  among  this  people.  The 
mingling  of  nations  which  will  inevitably  take  place, 
would  alone  have  a  powerful  tendency  to  raise  up  a 
fine  people,  and  the  sensuous  influences  of  the  country 
will,  as  it  settles  into  a  fixed  character,  take  off  the  in- 
tense strain  upon  the  American  brain  and  nerve.  The 
man  and  woman  will  become  handsomer,  the  features 
less  angular,  inharmonious,  and  tense ;  and  I  believe 
whoever  lives  to  see  the  Californians  of  the  third  or 
fourth  generation,  will  see  a  race  of  men  and  women 


272  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

imequaled  in  personal  endowments  and  rounded  com- 
pleteness of  character." 

"It  requires  faith,"  said  I,  "to  feel  that;  faith 
which  must  be  truly  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen. 
Nothing  in  the  actual  life  of  the  country  forecasts  it 
now  to  me." 

Nothing  in  its  visible  life  of  to-day  argues  for  my 
highest  claims,  I  admit,"  she  replied,  "because  the 
people  are  wasting  themselves  in  a  mad  riot.  But 
to-day  is  not  forever,  and  conditions  are  not  perpet- 
uated far  beyond  their  producing  causes.  The  peo- 
ple will,  in  time,  recover,  and  many  of  the  men  who 
hailed  that  spectacle  of  shame  we  witnessed  on  the 
day  of  our  arrival,  will  hereafter  shudder  in  their  better 
hours  at  the  humiliating  recollection." 

Thus  she  encouraged  herself  and  me,  keeping  a 
brave  heart  and  a  hopeful  one  for  the  worst  that  might 
come.  Phil's  daily  walk  was  an  inestimable  blessing 
to  us  all,  and  never  was  it  omitted.  At  ten  o'clock 
every  morning  Antonio  rapped  upon  our  door,  and 
within  five  minutes  of  eleven  they  were  there  again — 
often  with  some  trifling  purchase  or  waif,  picked 
up  in  the  streets  or  on  the  hills,  that  enlarged  his 
museum  and  helped  to  entertain  him  in  the  in-door 
hours. 

There  was  waste  enough,  at  that  time,  of  cast-off 
clothing,  superfluous  utensils,  and  the  refuse  of  the 
fires,  lying  about  the  streets  and  the  little  unoccupied 
valleys,  to  have  furnished  a  considerable  hamlet  of 
peasantry.  Ah,  had  the  rag-pickers  been  there  then  ! 
There  were  scores — hundreds — nay,  stacks  of  shirts, 
lying  scattered  over  the  streets  and  in  the  by-places, 
which  had  been  worn  once  and  thrown  away ;  it  being 
cheaper  to  buy  a  new  one,  at  a  low  price,  than  get  the 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  273 

soiled  one  washed,  at  a  risk  of  its  not  holding  together 
through  that  trying  process.  There  were  coats — fine 
coats,  often  nearly  new — in  which  a  rent  had  been  ac- 
cidentally made ;  no  neat  hand  there  to  repair  it,  and 
away  it  went  out  of  the  window. 

I  was  led  into  this  by  speaking  of  Phil's  waifs.  At 
one  time  they  found  a  fancy  box,  of  sandal-wood, 
with  a  landscape,  very  beautifully  done  in  India  ink, 
on  its  lid ;  at  another,  a  silver  tea-spoon ;  at  others, 
knives,  books,  bullet-molds  ;  then  a  small  pistol,  of  the 
tmcient  sort;  and  Antonio  declared  that  he  could 
pick  up  scores  of  candle-sticks  and  flat-irons,  with 
other  such  hardwares — which  had  resisted  the  fires,  or 
been  brought  carefully  all  the  way  from  home,  to  be 
finally  rejected  there. 

Thus  it  went  on  with  us  till  our  second  Sab- 
bath— when  we  attended  service  in  Grace  Church — a 
neat  little  edifice  for  so  new  a  city,  in  Powell  Street. 

The  pastor,  Rev.  Dr.  L ,  was  a  man  whom  it  was 

impossible  to  look  on  without  feeling  in  him  the  life  of 
a  true  apostle.  He  spoke  with  a  strong  foreign  accent, 
which  it  was  difficult  at  first  to  understand  ;  but  there 
was  such  fervor  and  exalted  earnestness  in  his 
thoughts  and  utterance,  that  one  could  not  resist  their 
influence.  His  congregation  were  small,  but  evi- 
dently composed  of  persons  of  culture,  taste,  and  in- 
tellect ;  and  Eleanore  found  the  performances  of  the 
choir  admirable  :  a  fact  which  surprised  us,  but  which 
was  accounted  for,  Mr.  Marsden  said,  by  the  great 
number  of  artists  in  the  country. 

"  There,  you  see,"  she  said,  "  is  another  seed 
already  sown  in  this  soil,  which  I  did  not  reckon." 

Subsequently  we  often  attended  the  services  of  this 
church,  and  I  believe  never  without  feeling  ourselves 


274  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

nobly  appealed  to  and  warmed  in  soul  by  the  excel- 
lent minister,  though  neither  of  us  accepted  his  the- 
ology. In  truth,  he  always  seemed  to  me  a  better 
Christian  than  theologian  himself.  I  learned  to  enter- 
tain a  very  high  respect  for  him,  and  to  recognize  his 
face  and  figure  with  pleasure,  as  afterwards  I  fre- 
quently did  among  the  sick  and  suffering,  where  the 
consolations  of  his  pure  faith  and  tender  heart  were 
never  asked  in  vain. 

It  began  now  to  be  very  necessary  that  we  should 
find  employment.  In  regard  to  teaching,  Mr.  Mars- 
den  was  very  discouraging.  "  Schools  were  not  yet 
organized,"  he  said ;  "  scarcely  could  be  for  two  or 
three  months.  Do  not  smile :  when  I  speak  of  months 
as  a  period  affecting  the  population  or  the  organization 
,  and  growth  of  such  institutions,  I  name  a  period  of 
time  equal  to  as  many  years  in  any  of  our  thriftiest 
Eastern  communities.  And  you  would  have  seen  how 
that  was,  had  you  sat  in  our  room  on  any  day  when 
the  boom  of  a  steamer's  gun  came  up  the  harbor,  and 
seen  the  wharf  which  her  black  length  was  laid  along- 
side of,  an  hour  after,  swarming  with  the  exodus  of 
men,  women,  and  children ;  the  women  being  about 
one  to  thirty  or  forty,  and  the  children  perhaps 
double  that.  Such  a  young  population  pouring  in 
semi-monthly,  a  portion  of  which  remained  in  the  city, 
would  justify  the  remark  that  schools  which  could  not 
be  filled  this  week,  would  not  be  sufficient  eight  or  ten 
weeks  hence." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Marsden's  was  a  free  public  school, 
then  under  the  patronage  of  the  city ;  hence  its 
crowded  condition. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

Early  in  the  week  after  our  second  Sabbath,  we 
went  to  call  on  Mrs.  Holman,  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Far- 
ley. They  lived  in  a  smart  house,  pretentiously  and 
showily  furnished,  in  Powell  Street — a  little  out  of  the 
best  part  of  the  town,  Mrs.  Holman  acknowledged, 
but  she  preferred  it  on  account  of  the  wind,  or  the 
noise,  or  the  dust,  or  the  water,  or  something  else, 
which  might  mean  anything  or  nothing,  and  was  of  no 
consequence,  whatever  it  meant.  This  was  after  the 
detailed  narrative — given  partly  by  myself  and  partly 
by  Eleanore — of  our  voyage  and  her  sister's  death. 

"  What  a  pity  1"  she  said ;  "  and  she  and  Matilda 
had  been  looking  so  long  for  her;  and  all  the  mer- 
chants had  wondered  so  much  what  had  become  of  the 
ship — so  her  husband  told  her  when  he  was  down, 
four  or  five  weeks  ago." 

"  There  was  a  report  of  our  voyage  in  the  papers 
the  day  after  we  landed,"  said  Eleanore. 

"Was  there }  I  don't  read  the  papers  myself. 
Matilda  sometimes  reads  them ;  but  we  didn't  see 
that." 

The  little  woman  shed  a  few  tears,  sighed,  and 
groaned  decorously ;  folded  her  hands  upon  her  lap, 
and  said  that  she  and  Matilda  would  "  have  to  go  into 
mourning  now  immediately.  And  such  a  pity,"  she 
added  "  that  all  her  clothes  should  be  lost !  though,  to 


276  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

be  sure,  they  wouldn't  have  been  of  any  use  to  us 
now;  for,  I  suppose,  they  were  pretty  much  all 
colors.  Did  you  ever  see  them  ?  Were  they  all 
colors  ?" 

I  confessed  my  ignorance  ;  and  as  I  heard  her  talk, 
and  looked  into  Eleanore's  grand  face,  which  seemed 
turning  into  a  splendid  piece  of  statuary,  filled  with  a 
silent  soul,  I  almost  forgot  that  I  was  not  again  talk- 
ing with  Mrs.  Farley  herself:  got  up  on  a  new  scale — 
a  larger  and  more  elaborate  one  than  our  life  at  sea 
had  ever  admitted  of.  There  were  the  same  detaifs  of 
features,  proportions,  colors  ;  the  same  movements,  the 
same  voice,  but  a  perfect  ear — and  a  life  enlarged  be- 
yond the  other  by  the  smallest  and  most  external  fact 
of  motherhood.  She  referred  to  her  eldest  daughter, 
Matilda,  who  was  included  in  the  mourning  scheme, 
frequently  ;  but  their  lives  seemed,  each,  purely  ob- 
jective to  the  other.  Matilda  was  a  being  whom  she 
conferred  with — whom  she  shone  upon  or  received  light 
from,  at  times,  according  to  their  respective  positions  ; 
but  Matilda  was  fact-reached  no  deeper  than  her 
senses  and  perceptions.  If  Matilda  had  died,  she 
would  have  been  in  a  measure  comforted  next  day  in 
repairing  to  the  milliner's  and  the  mourning  store. 
She  begged  us  to  wait  to  see  Matilda,  because  she 
would  wish  so  much  to  hear  about  it  from  us,  which 
I  did  not  wonder  at,  considering  the  sort  of  narrative 
she  was  likely  to  get  from  her  mother. 

Eleanore  had  been  silent  some  time,  but  at  length, 
in  a  pause,  which  the  little  lady  carne  to,  she  said  : 
"  I  see  you  have  a  piano,  Mrs.  Holman — a  fine  instru- 
ment, I  should  judge  from  the  maker's  name.  Would 
it  distress  you  if  I  played  something  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  very  fond  of  hearing 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  277 

it ;  though,  to  be  sure,  all  Tilda's  pieces  are  lively,  and 
she  won't  be  able  to  play  'em  now." 

Eleanore  drew  off  her  gloves,  and  laid  her  bonnet 
on  a  chair. 

"  I  never  can  play  with  anything  on  my  head," 
said  she  to  me.  "  I  lack  room  here" — laying  her  hand 
whimsically  above  her  forehead. 

"Well,  that's  curious,  now,"  said  Mrs.  Holm  an ; 
"  for  Tilda  often  sits  down  and  plays  with  her  hat  on, 
when  she  comes  in  ;  and  I  never  heard  her,  nor  any 
one  else,  speak  of  that  before,  that  I  know  of." 

Eleanore  went  to  the  instrument.  I  had  never 
heard  her  touch  one,  but  I  knew  she  had  an  artist's 
soul,  and  I  expected  something  not  less  noble  and  grand 
than  she  was  herself  at  times.  I  saw  by  the  gloomy 
radiance  of  her  eye  that  she  was  in  the  mood  for 
it.  All  our  talk  had  brought  back  Harry,  and  the 
lonely  island,  and  the  life  and  the  deaths  there,  and 
the  vast  solitude  of  those  tombs.  It  was  a  time  to 
soothe  her  silent  heart  with  glorious  music. 

Just  as  she  touched  the  keys,  calling  forth  the  first 
soft,  quavering  chord,  little  decorum  hopped  up  to  her, 
like  a  staid,  foolish  canary  about  to  interrupt  the  over- 
flowing song  of  its  mate,  and  said  :  "  Don't  play  any- 
thing lively,  if  you  please  ;  I  couldn't  bear  it  now ;" 
and  then,  with  her  eyes  in  her  cambric,  hopped  back 
to  her  perch. 

Again  she  struck  the  keys,  with  a  little  more  force,  butf 
in  the  same  chord  ;  it  was  repeated  the  third  time,  each 
a  little  more  decisively  and  less  prolonged ;  and  then, 
sweeping  over  the  whole  board,  as  if  with  fairy  fingers, 
so  soft  and  blended  were  the  notes,  she  seemed  to  take 
it,  with  that  action,  fully  into  her  power.  There  was 
a  short  prelude  of  sweet  concord?,  gentle  and  soothing, 


278  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

which  imperceptibly  passed  into  a  quicker  movement, 
with  a  continuous  under-toning  in  the  bass  notes  as 
mournful  as  the  perpetual  winds  or  seas.  I  could  not 
hear  it  without  being  strangely  affected ;  but  it  was 
maintained  with  increasing  effect  till  it  seemed  too  pain- 
ful to  endure,  when  there  came  a  great  shock  of  heavy 
sounds,  short  and  fearful  to  my  excited  nerves,  fol- 
lowed by  total  silence,  for  an  instant,  and  then  by  a 
wail — a  wild,  wandering  wail — gathered  up  from  the 
moaning  keys,  as  she  went  drearily  over  them,  and 
suggesting  such  utter  desolation  of  heart,  that,  with 
my  own  tears  flowing,  I  wondered  at  seeing  her  sit 
there  unmoved. 

At  last  she  ended,  in  a  funeral  strain  that  would 
have  moistened  eyes  the  most  unused  to  weep. 
Never  had  I  heard  an  instrument  express  so  much 
music ! 

There  had  been  an  addition  of  two  to  her  audience 
during  the  performance,  a  fact  of  which  she  remained 
insensible,  till  she  arose  and  was  about  putting  on  her 
bonnet,  when  we  were  formally  introduced  to  Mrs. 
Walker,  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

Mrs.  Walker  was  an  over-dressed,  low-bred,  inso- 
lent looking  person,  whose  very  quietest  aspect  re- 
pulsed me ;  what  her  worst  was,  I  should  not  like  to 
have  had  proved.  She  took  occasion  immediately  to 
inform  us  that  the  piano  was  hers ;  that  Mr.  Walker 
had  procured  it  for  their  daughter  to  learn  on,  and 
that  the  interesting  young  lady  before  us  was  the  indi- 
vidual so  favored.  She  added,  that  she  "  didn't  like 
the  style  of  music  the  lady  had  played,  so  well  as  good, 
old-fashioned  pieces  and  songs." 

At  this  stage  of  her  self-development,  Eleanore  had 
resumed  her  bonnet  and  gloves,  and  walking  nerv- 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  279 

ously  toward  the  door,  she  bade  the  ladies  "  good 
morning,"  and  saying,  "  Come,  Anna,"  was  gone. 

I  followed  in  a  moment,  and  when  I  joined  her,  I 
asked :  '  What  have  you  been  playing,  Eleanore  ?" 

"  Life,"  she  replied  ;  "  a  little  passage  of  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  it  was  an  improvisation  ?  It  was 
our  voyage,  then  !" 

"  I  suppose  so,  Anna.  It  never  was  written.  It 
came  to  me.  Perhaps  it  was  not  an  improvisation ; 
but  I  could  not  play  it  again,  whatever  it  was.  That 
is  a  noble  instrument.  It  has  a  soul — the  only  one  in 
the  house,  I  think.  It  understood  and  answered  me." 

"  There  is  no  teaching  for  you  there,"  I  said. 

"  Teaching  !  My  dear  Anna,  I  would  rather  clean 
any  tidy  housekeeper's  floors  and  scour  her  knives !" 


CHAPTEK     XXXY. 

Other  things  were  proposed  and  discussed ;  there 
was  sewing  for  good  Mrs.  Marsden,  which  helped  to 
"pay  our  expenses ;  a  week's  service  in  the  school,  to 
rest  her — infinite  hope  and  a  little  discouragement — 
the  difficulty  all  lying,  not  in  finding  occupation  and 
good  pay,  but  occupation  that  was  at  all  suited  to  our 
habits  and  capacities. 

"  It  is  as  Captain  Dahlgren  told  us,"  said  Eleanore. 
64  We  have  not  brought  the  right  power  to  this  market. 
If  we  could  wash  or  cook,  there  would  be  no  difficulty  ; 
but  something — either  the  right  or  the  wrong  thing — 
I  am  determined  upon  undertaking  within  three  days. 
I  am  going  to  look  at  the  newspapers  every  morning." 

That  day  Mr.  Garth,  whom  we  had  seen  but  twice 
since  leaving  the  hotel,  called  to  bid  us  good-by.  He 
also  was  going  up  the  country  to  one  of  the  principal 
mining  towns.  He  was  cheerful — exhilarated  by  his 
excellent  health  and  the  miraculous  climate,  which  he 
seemed  unable  to  satisfy  himself  with  praising,  and  not 
less  by  the  entire  freedom  which  men  enjoyed  in  their 
choice  of  occupation. 

"  I  find  there  is  no  loss  of  caste,"  he  said,  "  by  la- 
bor. A  learned  professor  from  one  of  our  Eastern 
States,  who  came  here  an  invalid,  is  driving  a  team 
with  merchandise  out  of  Sacramento,  twice  a  week  ;  and 
here  are  Englishmen,  with  the  manners  and  language 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  281 

of  peers  of  the  realm,  handling  the  pickax  and  shovel. 
All  this  argues,"  he  added,  "  rugged  self-respect,  which 
I  enjoy  very  much." 

Eleanore  and  I  agreed  that  it  was  admirable  and 
encouraging ;  and  after  he  had  gone,  she  showed  me 
an  advertisement  for  two  women — who  were  wanted 
to  take  charge  of  a  large  lodging-house,  near  the  foot 

of Street.  "  If  we  could  go  together,  would  it 

not  do  ?" 

I  smiled,  and  said:  "I  am  afraid,  dear,  it  would 
hardly  be  the  sort  of  business  we  want." 

"We  are  not  likely  to  get  that,"  she  replied, 
quickly.  "All  my  applications  for  pupils  in  music 
have  failed,  except  those  two  girls,  to  whom  I  have 
given  four  lessons,  in  Pine  Street,  and  the  family  are 
going  to  Stockton  this  week.  It  is  folly,  I  am  satis- 
fied, to  depend  on  any  such  thing  at  present,  and  I  am 
inclined  to  think  of  this  advertisement,  and  see,  at 
least,  what  it  offers.  We  could  get  Mr.  Marsden  to 
inquire  about  the  duties  and  the  pay,  and  also  about 
the  character  of  the  proprietor ;  for,  of  course,  every- 
thing would  depend  on  that." 

I  agreed  to  this,  and  in  the  evening  Mr.  M.  told 
us  that  the  house  was  new,  just  opened,  and  but  half 
furnished  ;  that  they  wanted  persons  who  could  put  it 
in  order — make  carpets  and  bedding  and  beds — do,  in 
short,  all  that  was  required  to  keep  a  good  lodging- 
house,  except  the  washing,  which  would  be  done  out ; 
and  one  would  have  to  keep  the  books  and  accounts. 
He  had  seen  the  place,  and  its  proprietor.  The  rooms 
were  all  on  the  second  and  third  floors,  with  respecta- 
ble stores  underneath  ;  there  was  a  neat  little  office  at 
the  head  of  the  stairs,  with  a  lodging-room  adjoining 
it ;  and  Mr.  Peters,  the  proprietor,  was  a  shrewd, 


282  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

money-making  Yankee,  a  thoroughly  reputable  man, 
who  had  business  elsewhere,  and  wanted  persons  who 
were  competent  to  take  charge  of  this  themselves,  and 
who  could  be  trusted  to  do  so,  with  his  seeing  them 
once  a  day.  Finally,  he  would  give  the  head  employe 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  per  month,  and  her  assist- 
ant one  hundred  and  seventy-five,  with  board — their 
meals  to  come  from  a  neighboring  restaurant,  and  be 
taken  in  their  own  room. 

"  You  shall  be  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollar 
woman,  Anna,"  said  Eleanore,  with  a  solid  hopeful- 
ness in  her  face  and  voice,  "  and  I  will  be  the  one 
hundred  and  seventy-five — and  Phil  shall  be  a  sort  of 
body-guard." 

A  faint  flush  of  color  stole  over  her  features  at  these 
last  words,  which  deepened  as  I  looked  at  her,  and 
perhaps  smiled  a  little,  for  she  said  :  "  You  may  laugh, 
but  Phil  could  be  very  useful,  and  take  a  deal  of  care 
of  mamma  and  Miss  Warren — couldn't  you,  darling  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  very  grandly ;  "  and  if  anybody 
was  naughty  to  you,  I'd — I'd  tell  Turnel  of  'em  when 
he  comes." 

"  So  you  should,  my  pet " — smothering  him  up  to 
her,  and  hiding  her  glowing  face  in  his  neck — for  this 
was  an  item  in  our  experience  of  which  the  Marsdens 
had  no  hint. 

Mr.  Marsden  said  he  would  accompany  us  that 
evening  to  see  Mr.  Peters  and  the  establishment,  if  we 
wished ;  and  he  agreed  with  Eleanore  that  it  might  be 
wise  to  take  these  situations  for  a  while ;  there  was  no 
doubt  better  would  shortly  offer,  and  our  being  toge- 
ther was  an  advantage  not  to  be  overlooked. 

So  the  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  we  removed 
to  Mr.  Peters'  house,  having  agreed  with  him  the 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  283 

evening  before,  and  found  that  Phil  was  no  obstacle, 
but  the  reverse,  rather.  In  regard  to  our  respective 
positions,  I  at  last  had  my  way,  after  some  sharp  logic 
with  Eleanore.  The  principal  one  would  put  her  in 
the  office,  where,  when  the  fitting  up  was  accomplished, 
she  would  remain  most  of  the  day,  after  the  morning 
rounds  of  bed-making,  sweeping,  and  dusting,  were 
over.  She  was  to  register  names,  receive  money,  and 
have  the  general  charge ;  while  I  should  attend  more 
to  the  details  of  the  rooms  ;  and  we  were  to  share  alike 
the  labors  of  the  house,  as  far  as  was  practicable  with 
these  arrangements. 

There  was  an  air  of  respectability  about  the  estab- 
lishment— the  new  house,  with  its  large,  bright  sign, 
the  neat  stairway,  and  the  tidy,  but  quiet  office,  which 
I  am  sure  Mr.  Peters  felt  to  be  very  much  enhanced 
by  the  person  and  face  that  greeted  the  comer  on  his 
entrance. 

We  worked  intensely  almost  night  and  day  the  first 
week,  making  and  laying  carpets,  arranging  furniture, 
and  hemming  sheets  and  pillow-cases.  Our  rooms 
were  full  each  night,  but  we  had  as  yet  comparatively 
little  to  do  with  the  lodgers ;  for  Mr.  Peters,  until  the 
rooms  were  fitted  and  the  house  in  working  order,  as 
he  said,  continued  to  spend  several  hours  each  day  in 
it,  and  especially  to  be  there  at  evening,  when  the  new 
lodgers  principally  came  in. 

When  there  was  an  occasional  rap  on  the  office 
door  which  remained  unanswered,  Eleanore  would  take 
her  key  and  open  it ;  and  once,  when  she  returned 
from  a  call  of  this  sort,  she  brought  back  a  face  flushed 
and  furious,  but  gave  me  to  understand  by  a  silent 
gesture  that  there  were  auditors  in  the  next  room,  and 
I  must  not  inquire.  We  did  all  the  light  work  in  our 


284  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

own  room,  which  opened  only  into  the  office,  but  were 
necessarily  occupied  a  good  deal  elsewhere,  sewing  car- 
pets on  the  floors  where  they  were  to  be  laid,  and  after- 
ward stretching  and  nailing  them ;  and  into  these 
apartments  impudent  men  would  sometimes  look,  or 
even  step,  with  a  pretense  of  examining  them. 

"  Are  those  looking-glasses,  ma'am  ?"  asked  a  mid- 
dle-aged man  of  respectable  appearance,  pointing  to  n 
dozen  or  more  small  mirrors  that  were  packed  against 
the  wall,  opposite  the  door  of  a  room  in  which  Eleanore 
was  at  work. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  entirely  unsuspecting  any  dou- 
ble purpose  in  the  speaker.  "  Are  you  in  need  of  one  ?" 
making  a  movement  to  hand  it  to  him. 

"  No,  thank  you  "—stepping  within  the  door. 
"  This  is  a  pleasant  room,  ma'am.  Is  it  taken  ?" 

"  It  is  not  ready  for  occupation,  sir  " — her  eyes 
lighting  up  as  he  advanced  slowly  into  the  middle  of 
the  floor. 

"  What  will  it  be  worth  a  week  ?"  he  asked,  in  an 
easy,  familiar  tone. 

"  You  will  be  able  to  learn  of  the  proprietor,  at  the 
office.  Be  good  enough  to  leave  it,  sir  " — lifting  her 
hand  toward  the  door. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,"  he  said,  maintaining  his 
ground.  "  A  little  anger  in  a  woman  is  a  good  sign. 
I  like  it."  And  he  actually  drew  a  step  nearer. 

I  was  in  the  opposite  room,  and  perhaps  I  ought  to 
be  ashamed  to  say  it,  but  I  was  not  sorry,  if  there  was 
such  an  encounter  to  be  suffered,  that  I  was  where  I 
could  witness  without  interrupting  it,  unless  it  became 
necessary  to  do  so.  I  looked  at  Eleanore,  as  he  made 
a  slight  movement  toward  her,  with  the  last  insulting 
words  on  his  lips.  She  stood  exactly  facing  him,  as 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  285 

unshrinking  as  if  she  had  been  stone,  instead  of  flesh 
and  blood,  and  she  took  a  moment  to  gather  herself  be- 
fore she  spoke. 

"  Pardon  my  mistake,"  she  said  ;  "  I  asked  you  to 
leave  the  room,  supposing  you  were  a  gentleman  ;  but 
I  see  my  mistake.  When  you  think  better  of  yourself, 
and  are  ready  to  go,  I  shall  be  happy  to  release  you." 

And  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  she  suddenly 
closed  the  door  on  him,  turned  the  key  in  it,  and  came 
to  me. 

"  There  is  a  person,"  she  said — and  every  word  was 
audible  to  him — "  who  wishes  to  occupy  the  room  I 
was  finishing,  Anna;  so  I  will  help  you  here,  at 
present." 

Not  a  word  or  audible  sign  of  excitement,  though 
she  was  as  white  and  tremulous  as  a  sheet  of  paper. 
No  further  reference  to  it :  we  went  on  diligently,  and 
were  nearly  ready  to  leave  the  apartment,  when  Mr. 
Peters  passed  along. 

"  Have  you  got  the  large  room  done  ?"  he  asked, 
stepping  across  to  the  door. 

"  Not  quite,"  replied  Eleanore ;  and  the  next  mo- 
ment he  unlocked  and  entered. 

He  stood  before  the  prisoner  for  a  full  minute,  at 
least,  lost  in  astonishment.  Neither  of  us  spoke. 

"  How — have  you  taken — how  came  you  to  be 
locked  up  here,  sir  ?"  he  at  last  asked. 

The  man  attempted  a  feeble  laugh,  and  said : 
"  The  ladies  can  tell  you  better  than  I  can,  sir.  I  just 
stepped  in,  to  look  at  this  room,  which  I  was  thinking 
of  taking,  when  it  was  done,  and  the  lady  who  was  at 
work  here  went  out  and  locked  me  in." 

"  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Peters,  comprehending  in  a  mo- 
ment. "  You  don't  wish  to  stop  any  longer,  I  guess, 


286  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

and  if  you  don't,  I  advise  you  to  leave  now.  This  is  a 
respectable  house,"  he  added,  bluntly,  "  and  I  calcu- 
late that  while  you  are  a  stayin'  here,  you  may  as  well 
not  try  that  sort  of  thing  again." 

"  Served  him  exactly  right,"  he  said,  after  the  man 
was  gone,  laughing  as  heartily  as  ever  his  little  eager, 
wiry  body  seemed  able  to  aiford  exercise  of  that  sort ; 
"  served  him  exactly  right.  If  you  can  manage  'em 
all  as  slick  as  that,  it'll  be  first-rate.  You  see,"  he 
said,  looking  at  the  pecuniary  and  reputable  side  of  the 
question  out  of  his  little  clear,  light-blue  eyes,  "  you  see, 
there's  nothing  worse  in  such  a  place  than  having  a 
fuss,  and  I  was  most  afraid  to  undertake  to  have  wo- 
men in  the  house,  for  fear  of  that ;  "  but  when  I  see 
you,"  he  said,  more  particularly  addressing  Eleanore, 
and  coming  as  near  a  complimentary  tone  as  he  ever 
did  to  us,  "I  thought,  by  George,  there  was  the  right 
stuff  there,  and  I'd  trust  you." 

"  Is  it  likely,"  she  asked,  "  that  we  shall  have  many 
such  people  to  deal  with  ?" 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  may,"  he  replied.  "  Fact  is, 
folks  generally  don't  think  enough  of  behaving  them- 
selves here,  as  they'd  ought  to.  I  don't  mean  to  hurt 
your  feelin's,  but  the  women — a  good  many  on  'em — 
ain't  any  better  'n  the  men." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  Eleanore,  unable 
to  bear  the  common  tone  of  the  man  any  longer,  and 
breaking  the  conversation  abruptly  off  by  a  reference 
to  business  affairs. 

When  he  was  gone,  she  exclaimed,  impatiently : 
what  a  dead  carcase  respectability  is,  Anna!" 

"  Yes,"  I  replied  ;  "  but  it  is  better,  dead  as  it  is, 
than  its  opposite ;  better  that  he  should  believe  in  and 
approve,  than  distrust  or — " 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  28  T 

"  Distrust !"  she  said  ;  "  if  I  saw  a  glimpse  of  that, 
he  and  I  would  part  company  at  once.  I  won't  live 
under  suspicion,  if  I  starve.  But,  really,  dear,  I  am 
afraid,  when  the  house  comes  to  be  left  to  us,  it 
will  be  more  unpleasant  than  I  feared.  I  don't  mind 
making  the  beds  and  righting  the  rooms ;  for,  though 
it  is  disagreeable,  certainly,  it  does  not  attack  one's  self- 
respect,  when  it  is  done  to  provide  bread  ;  but  if  one 
is  to  experience  such  things,  it  will  be  dreadful." 

"  I  have  faith,"  I  said,  "  that  there  will  not  be 
many  recurrences  of  this  sort  of  difficulty.  I  suppose 
that  here,  as  everywhere  else,  people  can  make  the 
character,  in  these  respects,  which  they  wish  to  bear, 
and  that  will  very  soon  save  us  from  further  annoy- 
ance." 

"  Yes,  it  would,  if  the  people  we  have  to  see  were 
not  changing  so  constantly.  Mr.  Peters  told  me  the 
other  day  that  more  than  half  the  lodgers  do  not  stay 
the  second  night,  and  that  he  presumed  there  was  not 
then  a  man  in  the  house  who  had  occupied  his  room  a 
week.  That,  you  see,  dear,  keeps  a  new  community 
around  us  all  the  time." 

"  Nevertheless,"  I  said,  "  I  have  no  fear." 

"  Nor  have  I  any  fear,  Anna  ;  but  there  is  a  great 
deal  to  be  suffered  short  of  that.  I  felt  in  my  heart 
like  knocking  that  man  down  this  morning ;  and  if  my 
arm  had  answered  my  spirit,  I  should  certainly  have 
done  it." 

"  I  should  have  been  deeply  grieved,"  I  said,  "  at 
seeing  in  you  the  slightest  manifestation  of  a  disposi- 
tion to  such  an  unwomanly  argument." 

"Unwomanly!"  she  echoed,  in  her  quick,  impa- 
tient tone  of  dissent.  "  Now,  don't  talk  of  unwomanly 
in  dealing  with  such  a  wretch.  I  never  did  strike  a 


288  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

blow,  to  my  knowledge,  against  strong  or  weak ;  but 
if  I  could  wholly  and  soundly  respect  myself  in  doing 
a  thing  my  sex  was  not  made  for,  it  would  be  in  lay- 
ing prostrate  such  a  creature.  I  allow,  that,  in  the 
state  of  things  existing  here,  and  according  to  the 
world's  loose  code  of  morality  for  men,  he  would  not 
have  been  unpardonably  guilty  in  addressing  me  at 
first ;  but  when  I  had  answered  him,  a  single  spark  of 
manhood  should  have  brought  an  apology  and  instant 
exemption  from  his  presence.  Manliness  may,  I  be- 
lieve, sometimes  exist  with  a  certain  degree  of  what 
we  call  corruption ;  for  the  world,  while  it  does  not 
trouble  itself  for  a  man's  honor,  makes  at  least  tacit 
question  of  a  woman's,  except  it  be  proved  ;  and  there 
is  no  such  damning  wrong  to  be  endured  in  human 
existence,  as  the  rejection  of  this  proof,  when  it  is  given. 
If  I  were  an  absolute  monarch,  the  heaviest  penalty  in 
my  code  of  laws  should  be  that  for  offenses  against  wo- 
manhood. The  taking  of  life  is  merciful  compared  to 
it,  and  I  should  treat  the  murderer  more  tenderly  than 
the  violator." 

When  this  man  passed  back  to  his  room,  he  looked 
straight  forward,  as  if  unconscious  that  there  was  any 
one  near  him,  and  shortly  after  returned,  carpet-bag  in 
hand — the  signal  of  departure. 

"  That  is  very  satisfactory,"  said  I,  pointing  Elea- 
nore's  attention  to  it,  after  he  had  passed  us. 

u  Yes,  if  there  does  not  come  another  in  his  stead, 
who  requires  the  same  lesson." 


CHAPTER    XXXYI. 

Before  the  first  half  month  was  at  an  end,  the 
house  was  in  perfect  order,  and  henceforth  we  rarely 
saw  Mr.  Peters,  except  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  even- 
ing and  an  hour  so  on  Saturday  afternoons,  when  he 
came  to  examine  the  accounts,  receive  his  money,  and 
settle  with  us. 

He  was  exceedingly  pleased  with  the  results  of 
our  efforts,  and  more  than  once  declared,  as  if  it  ought 
to  exalt  our  opinion  of  ourselves,  that  he  thought  he 
was  very  lucky  in  having  us  there.  But  matters  did 
not  go  so  smoothly  with  us  as  with  him.  It  was  a 
remarkable  day  when  we  coiild  lie  down  at  its  close 
and  have  no  humiliating  incident  to  relate  or  hear ;  yet, 
as  the  house  was  always  filled,  our  wages  promptly 
paid,  our  employer  pleased,  ourselves  in  good  health, 
and  Phil,  with  his  daily  walks,  becoming  a  very  Her- 
cules, we  bore  it  all  with  little  complaint.  At  the  very 
best,  it  was  sore  and  mean  drudgery  ;  but  with  the  mo- 
tive and  the  hope  beyond,  it  became  in  a  certain  sort 
sanctified.  We  made  no  acquaintances,  and  never 
went  out,  except  on  some  necessary  errand,  or  to  see 
the  good  Marsdens,  now  and  then,  for  half  an  hour. 
If  it  could  be  avoided,  one  never  left  the  other  alone 
in  the  house,  and  it  was  rarely  necessary  to  do  so,  ex- 
cept on  the  arrival  of  the  steamers,  when  the  post- 
office  had  to  be  visited.  This  was  no  trifling  affair  in 
13 


290  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

San  Francisco  in  those  days,  and  our  sex  gave  us  so 
decided  an  advantage  in  getting  through  with  it,  that 
we  never  presumed  to  ask  a  man  to  bring  us  our  let- 
ters. There  was  a  continuous  line  of  men,  often  for 
two  days  after  the  mail  came  in,  one  or  two  hundred 
long,  filing  slowly  past  the  windows,  waiting  their 
turn.  Sometimes  a  place  was  sold  for  three,  five,  or 
even  ten  dollars,  according  to  its  priority  and  the  ex- 
igence of  the  buyer.  Some  sharp  speculators,  with  no- 
thing better  to  exercise  their  acuteness  upon,  would 
rush  early  to  the  office  and  secure  positions,  at  the  risk 
of  selling  them  to  advantage,  which  generally  they  did  ; 
but  always  place  was  given  to  a  woman  instantly,  on 
her  presenting  herself.  So  these  expeditions  generally 
fell  to  me,  for  I  escaped  notice,  where  Eleanore  could 
not,  and  I  generally  went  and  came  with  no  excitement 
or  annoyance,  which  she  seldom  did. 

We  were  now  in  our  sixth  week  since  landing,  and 
no  letter  had  yet  come  from  Col.  Anderson.  I  found 
Eleanore  often  thoughtful  and  half  sad,  but  she  seldom 
spoke  his  name  :  because,  when  he  was  referred  to,  it 
was  difficult  for  her  to  restrain  evidences  of  feeling, 
which  neither  our  exposed  position  nor  her  pride  would 
bear. 

At  length,  on  a  Saturday  night,  after  a  very  hard 
day's  work,  which  had  included  clearing  the  house 
throughout,  doing  some  purchases  for  it  and  for  our- 
selves, and  going  to  the  office  for  our  steamer-mail,  we 
went  to  bed  very  weary. 

Eleanore  laughed  feebly  as  she  laid  her  head  upon 
the  pillow,  and  said-  "Who  would  have  thought, 
dear,  that,  with  all  the  business  and  work  of  to-day, 
I  should  have  found  time  to  receive  an  offer  of 
marriage  ?" 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  291 

"  Have  you  ?"  I  asked,  laughing  in  turn. 

"  Yes — not  a  highly  esthetical  proceeding  on  my 
part,  you  may  say,  to  have  heard  it  while  on  my  knees, 
scouring  this  door-sill ;  but  I  did,  nevertheless." 

"  And  did  you  rise  to  the  speaker  ?" 

"  Ko ;  I  only  begged  him  to  pass  on,  and  think  bet- 
ter of  it." 

"  Who  was  it  ?"  I  inquired,  "  and  what  answer  did 
you  truly  make  him  ?  I  should,  of  all  things,  have 
liked  to  see  that  ceremony  come  oif." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  would — and  have  enjoyed 
it  almost  as  highly  as  when  he  offered  himself  to  you 
the  other  day." 

"  Was  it  Captain ,  then  ?" 

"  Yes,  the  very  same ;  I  am  beginning  quite  to  like 
the  old  man  ;  he  is,  at  least,  respectful,  and  that  is  say- 
ing a  great  deal  for  him  here.  He  proposed  to  sell 
his  property  at  once,  and  go  to  Europe  or  Asia,  or  any 
part  of  the  globe  I  wished  to  visit,  if  I  would  accept 
him !" 

"  How  much  like  a  farce  the  most  serious  actions 
become  here — do  they  not?"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied ;  "  that,  now,  seems  like  some 
proposal  one  hears  of  between  ridiculous  people  upon 
the  stage.  Ten  years  hence  we  shall  scarcely  be  able  to 
believe  that  it  was  earnest  truth.  But  the  worst  phase 
of  it  is,  that  it  destroys  all  sentiment,  and  almost  one's 
respect  for  love  itself.  One  could  despise  the  name  in 
which  such  things  are  done.  This  is  now  the  third 
offer  I  have  had  in  three  weeks,  and  each  from  men, 
who,  unless  they  had  divine  insight,  could  not  know 
but  I  would  prove  a  curse  to  them  ever  after ;  though," 
she  added,  laughing,  "  that  young  man  who  consoled 
himself  by  saying  that  he  would  rather  jump  at  the 


292  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

moon  and  miss  it,  than  capture  a  rush-light,  did,  I  be- 
lieve, hold  a  sound  faith  in  my  capacities  to  make  a 
good  wife.  He  lived  in  a  shanty  in  a  little  mining 
town,  where  there  was  but  one  woman,  he  said,  and  it 
was  very  lonesome — for  men,  at  the  best,  were  bad 
company  for  each  other.  Poor  fellow !  I  hope  he  has 
found  some  one  by  this  time  willing  to  go  with  him. 
That  was  three  weeks  ago,  and  he  may  be  past  the 
bridegroom  stage  of  married  life  by  this  time." 

"  What  would  you  give,  dear  Eleanore,  to-night," 
I  asked,  "  to  hear  from  Col.  Anderson  ?" 

"  Have  you  heard  from  him  ?"  she  inquired,  turning 
quickly  upon  me,  with  eyes  beaming  with  hope  and 
earnest  question. 

"  No  ;  I  wish  I  had.  I  am  distressed  at  his  long 
silence.  Ever  since  we  came  here  I  have  expected  a 
letter  daily." 

I  had  scarcely  spoken  before  her  pent-up  tears 
flowed  bitterly  forth.  I  did  not  attempt  to  check 
them,  and  she  wept  and  shook  with  the  anguish  of  her 
heart. 

At  length,  when  the  violence  of  her  feelings  had 
somewhat  subsided,  she  said :  "  Do  you  think  I  was 
wrong,  Anna,  to  reject  him,  and  hide  my  love  from 
him  ?" 

"  To  any  other  woman,"  I  replied,  "  that  ever  I 
knew,  I  should  say  yes ;  but  you  have  such  strong  pur- 
poses, and  often  they  prove  so  clear  and  right,  where 
at  first  they  seem  confused  and  even  mistaken  to  me, 
that  I  cannot  judge  in  your  case." 

"  Is  it  not  clear — consider,  dear  Anna — that  I  could 
not  have  done  differently  without  having  given  up 
very  much  of  the  dignity  and  self-trust  and  freedom 
that  make  a  true  woman  ?  Would  he  ever  consent 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  293 

that  one  who  was  to  become  his  wife  should  go  through 
this,  for  instance  ?  And  if  I  had  not  kept  him  at  a  dis- 
tance, now,  should  I  not  have  been  almost  obliged,  un- 
der the  dreadful  circumstances  in  which  he  left  me,  to 
have  accepted  his  guidance,  if  not  his  support?  It 
could  not  have  been  otherwise,  dear,  without  battle 
more  stern  and  ungracious  than  my  present  silent  con- 
flict is.  I  would  not  accept  a  man's  love  to  outrage 
his  taste  and  judgment  next  day.  Then,  beside  all 
this,  am  I  fit  for  the  joy  and  bounty  of  such  a  season, 
with  so  much  fresh-heaped  pain  and  sorrow  on  my 
heart  ?  and  do  I  know  this  man,  noble  and  true  and 
manly  as  he  is,  well  enough  to  say  wisely,  '  I  will  give 
myself  to  you  forever '  ?  No,  no ;  I  feel  that  I  am 
right,  Anna,  hard  as  it  is  to  maintain  my  position,  and 
much  as  I  may  seem  to  lack  the  consideration  and  ten- 
derness due  to  him.  God  knows  I  do  not  lack  them 
in  my  heart.  I  hope  and  believe  that  I  am  doing  the 
truest  thing  for  our  happiness  in  the  future.  It  need 
be  so,  indeed,  for  it  is  bitter  enough  in  this  present 
time." 

Again  she  wept,  and  then,  suddenly  standing  up, 
deluged  her  face  and  temples  with  cold  water,  and 
pressing  back  her  tears,  said :  "  I  must  not  suffer  this 
to  overcome  me  so ;  I  have  not  once  before ;  but,  in- 
deed, Anna,  I  have  been  very  unhappy  at  his  long 
silence.  Yet,  what  else  ought  I  to  expect  ?  Why 
should  he  write,  for  me  to  hear,  or  ever  refer  to  me 
again  ?  I  gave  him  no  ground — and  we  parted,  with 
a  clasping  of  hands  and  the  common  word,  i  good-by,' 
to  which  he  added  a  whispered  i  God  bless  you,  my 
idol  P  after  his  hand  was  laid  upon  the  door.  I  was 
silent  and  tearless — only  a  little  pale,  I  think,  from  the 
excessive  coldness  I  felt  all  over.  I  cannot  forget  that 


29-i  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

parting,  Anna;  and  the  remembrance  of  it,  whenever 
I  indulge  it,  sinks  heavily  into  my  heart.  If  he  should 
never  know  my  secret,  that  would  be  dreadful." 

I  could  say  little  to  comfort  or  cheer  my  friend.  If 
I  had  wanted  proof  of  the  genuineness  and  depth  of 
her  love  before,  I  had  it  now ;  and  I  saw,  that,  if  by 
death  or  other  cause,  they  should  be  finally  separated, 
it  would  cost  her  pain  such  as  only  a  soul  so  large  and 
rare  and  generous  as  hers  could  suffer. 

I  soothed  her  with  lip-words — which  I  believe  she 
accepted  merely  as  such,  but  restrained  her  sorrows 
on  their  utterance,  because  she  would  not  pain  me,  and 
because  self-control  was  a  religion  with  her.  But 
while  I  lay  thus,  I  determined  to  ask  Antonio  and 
learn  Col.  Anderson's  address,  which  I  did  not  doubt 
he  knew,  or  could  easily  get  from  his  employer. 

The  next  day  I  prevailed  on  Eleanore,  who  was 
very  pale  and  could  take  no  breakfast,  to  go  to  Grace 
Church,  and  take  Phil  with  her.  The  music  and  the 
service,  I  knew,  would  help  her ;  and  if  the  sermon 
should  be  such  as  we  had  before  heard  from  the  good 
pastor,  it  would  appeal  to  her  faith  and  warm  her 
strong  religious  sentiment  into  its  old  life — a  service 
she  much  needed  at  this  time.  During  her  absence, 
Antonio  was  to  remain  with  me,  having,  he  said,  no 
need  to  go  home  till  one  o'clock.  He  was  very 
communicative,  as  we  sat,  and  told  me  that  his  mas- 
ter was  an  English  gentleman,  who  had  great  stores, 
and  that  he  had  now  gone  up  to  the  place  where 
Col.  Anderson  was ;  had  been  gone  a  week  —  that 
was  the  reason  of  his  having  more  time  to  be  out 
— and  was  not  expected  till  Tuesday.  This  encour- 
aged me,  for  I  thought — when  he  returns,  he  will 
bring  a  letter,  which  Col.  Anderson  has  not  liked,  per- 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  295 

haps,  to  send  by  mail.  I  said  this  to  Eleanore,  but 
she  immediately  cut  down  my  hopes  in  that  direction 
by  declaring  it  improbable. 

"  There  will  no  letter  come  by  him,  Anna,"  she 
said.  "  We  may  hear  through  Antonio,  but  nothing 
more,  I  think.  I  shall  be  thankful  for  that,  if  what 
we  hear  is  good  news  of  him." 

But  on  Wednesday  morning,  when  Antonio  came, 
he  brought  a  letter,  addressed  to  me. 

"  There  !"  said  I,  exultingly,  and  glad  as  if  its  chief 
interest  had  been  to  myself. 

We  sent  Phil  and  his  attendant  out,  and  retired  to 
our  room.  I  removed  the  envelope,  and  gave  her  the 
expected  inclosure,  bearing  her  name. 

"  Heaven  be  praised  that  he  yet  lives,  and  has  faith 
in  me  !"  were  her  only  words,  as  she  pressed  it  to  her 
lips  and  heart,  before  opening  it. 

She  was  pale,  and  so  much  agitated  that  I  said,  by 
way  of  rallying  her  :  "  Shall  I  open  and  read  it  to  you, 
Eleanore  ?" 

"  Don't  speak  to  me,"  was  her  prompt  answer ; 
and  then  we  each  sat,  silent  and  engrossed. 

Mine  was  a  friendly  epistle ;  sensible,  frank,  and 
pungent  in  its  criticism  on  the  country  and  people 
about  him ;  hopeful,  withal,  but  expressive  of  much 
unavoidable  disgust  at  the  circumstances  which  were 
inseparable  from  his  position,  and  which,  when  they 
lost  the  character  of  adventure,  he  thought  could  only 
be  worthily  borne  by  those  who  had  a  high  motive  for 
seeking  fortune.  "  For  myself,"  he  said,  "  I  would 
not  endure  such  a  lot,  when  the  charm  of  newness  was 
gone,  and  I  had  learned  its  lessons.  One  wants  a  pur- 
pose, Miss  Warren,  and  a  very  noble  one,  to  carry  him 
with  self-respect  through  much  that  I  witness  daily. 


THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

I  shall  probably  be  in  the  city  in  the  fall,  on  my  way 
home." 

Eleanore's  letter,  which  she  sat  over  long  after  I  had 
done  reading  mine,  and  at  last  handed  to  me,  with 
beaded  lashes  bedewing  the  happy  light  in  her  eyes, 
ran  as  follows : 

"  I  write  to  you,  Eleanore,  because  it  is  as  natural 
for  me  to  do  so  as  to  reply  to  these  surrounding  per- 
sons when  they  address  me.  You  are  more  with  me 
than  they  are,  for  I  never  lose  you  a  whole  hour  of  the 
day  or  night.  And  sometimes  I  say,  '  Surely  she  must 
have  some  consciousness  of  this.  Or  is  it  possible  that 
one  soul  can  be  so  interfused,  unconsciously,  with  an- 
other ?'  I  have  thought  little — perhaps  too  little — hith- 
erto, on  the  laws  of  what  you  call  the  spiritual  life  and 
relations,  but  I  can  fed  the  negative  of  this  without 
thinking,  and  therefore,  if  without  hope,  yet  also  with- 
out fear,  I  resign  myself  to  the  pleasure  of  pouring  out 
to  you  the  life  I  derive  from  you. 

"  In  this  most  practical  of  all  lands,  with  earnest 
strife  and  toil  hemming  me  in  ;  sweating  brows  and 
horny  hands  fronting  me  every  hour,  I  am  become  a 
very  dreamer — not  always  an  incapable  or  despairing, 
but  in  the  main  a  ready  and  cheerful  one.  One  form, 
one  countenance — one  soul  speaking  through  them,  is 
ever  before  me.  And  they  are  mine  for  such  happi- 
ness as  this  presence  can  give.  It  is  not  your  nay, 
Eleanore,  that  can  deprive  me  of  them.  They  are 
mine  by  the  gift  of  God,  who  conferred  on  me  the  ca- 
pacity thus,  if  no  nearer,  to  take  and  hold  them.  And 
be  thou  sure  they  are  not  to  be  parted  from  me.  When 
my  soul  serves  me  most  divinely,  I  am  happy  for  whole 
hours.  You  live,  and  that  suflices  me  at  such  times. 
What  is  it  to  me  that  we  come  not  near  each  other  in 
the  body  ?  It  is  better,  I  say,  then,  that  we  do  not. 
For  so  I  should  sometimes  lose  you.  Nearness  to-day 
would  make  distance  to-morrow  insupportable.  And 
thus,  when  my  yearning  heart  cries  out  for  you,  I  still 
it  by  saying,  ;  Hush  thy  childish  call ;  she  is  ever  thine. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  297 

The  possession  thou  hast,  nothing  in  life  can  deprive 
thee  of.' 

"  I  do  not  claim  that  herein  I  have  risen  above  the 
pain  of  mortal  love.  I  do  not  claim  that  I  am  exempt 
in  my  best  hours  from  those  pangs  which  the  heart 
cherishes  as  its  life  and  hope,  nor  in  my  worst,  from 
suffering  which  proves  the  strength  of  my  human  affec- 
tion. To-day,  though  a  lover,  and  a  rejected  one,  I  am 
a  metaphysician,  and  therefore  happy ;  to-morrow  I 
shall  be — God  knows  what ;  perhaps  a  gloomy,  ungra- 
cious man  ;  not  less  a  lover,  but  one  whose  demands 
are  more  painful  to  the  endurance  that  is  without 
promise  of  reward. 

"  I  do  not  speak  thus,  Eleanore,  from  any  hope  of 
influencing  the  decision  I  heard  from  your  lips  on  that 
last  day  ;  nor,  if  I  know  myself,  from  any  wish  to  do 
so.  I  should  despise  myself  for  soliciting  the  gift  of 
love.  It  must  come  freely — ay,  unasked — to  be  in 
trial  what  it  is  in  thought  to  me.  I  dream  of  a  perfect 
Love,  which  should  flow  to  its  true  object  spontane- 
ously, as  light  from  the  sun,  as  odor  from  flowers,  and 
as  winds  from  the  sweet  south-west ;  as  mine  to  you, 
if  you  allow  the  illustration  ;  which  constrains  to  all 
tender  compliances ;  which,  with  perfect  individuality 
in  its  outflow,  is  k>st  in  the  life  it  joins,  as  the  streams 
which  leap  down  these  hills,  come  each  with  its  own 
ardor  and  movement,  to  the  valley  of  meeting,  and  are 
henceforth  one.  Such  a  love  my  soul  craves,  and  such, 
I  believe,  you  would  lavish  upon  one  who  was  so  con- 
stituted as  to  take  it  without  your  leave.  That  I  were 
that  happy  man  !  Pray  heaven  I  may  never  behold 
him ! 

"  I  am  very  much  occupied  here !  There  is  not  an 
idle  hour  in  all  the  week,  except  those  wherein  my  soul 
cheats  my  body  of  its  rest,  as  now,  when  there  is  no 
noise  of  life  to  be  heard  but  the  heavy  breathing  of 
tired  sleepers  in  the  adjoining  room  ;  or  of  Nature,  but 
the  rush  of  the  stream  that  hurries  past  our  cabin-door. 
Rude  and  coarse  are  all  the  external  features  of  this 
sojourn,  save  the  peerless  skies  that  overhang  us,  and 

13* 


298  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

the  airs,  that  bring  on  their  invisible  wings  health, 
vivacity,  and  courage,  to  body  and  soul.  I  have  lain 
down  many  times  under  the  shining  stars,  in  the  dew- 
less  nights  of  this  country,  and  looking  up,  hour  after 
hour,  into  the  blue  depths  where  they  are  suspended, 
have  dreamed  such  dreams  of  life,  of  love — of  achieve- 
ment here,  and  its  glorious  fruitage  in  the  future — as 
could  only  be  dreamed  in  a  soul  illuminated  by  the 
divine  radiance  thou  hast  poured  upon  mine.  Yes, 
dear  Eleanore,  I  have  a  larger  and  holier  life  through 
the  knowledge  of  thee.  I  see  God  more  nearly  and 
man  more  lovingly.  Shall  I  not  be  patient  with  infirm 
souls  who  in  the  feeblest  manner  represent  thee  tome  ? 
I  said  once  that  I  could  not  live  worthily,  or  do  any 
faithful  work  without  thee — that  I  had  no  hope  of 
heaven  or  earth  but  through  thee.  I  had  not  then 
risen  to  possess  thee  as  now  I  do.  If  I  could  not  hold 
thee  in  these  arms,  or  drink  in  thy  voice  and  thy 
power  through  the  channels  of  sense,  I  felt  myself  ac- 
cursed and  withered  by  a  decree  of  perpetual  banish- 
ment. To  live  without  thee  was  only  to  exist — to  hear 
divinest  music,  and  never  thy  voice,  could  not  have 
sufficed — to  see  all  beauty  of  Mature  or  Art,  and  not 
thine,  was  but  to  gaze  upon  dross.  But  they  are  all 
mine  now.  I  have  brought  them  through  the  furnace 
of  purification,  and  garnered  them  in  my  soul,  where 
no  destruction  can  overtake  them. 

"  But  let  me  never  see  the  man  who  calls  thee  wife. 
While  thou  rernainest  unconsecrate  to  any,  I  think  of 
thee  alone,  and  there  is  no  discord  in  rny  heart — only 
pain ;  but  I  would  put  the  globe  between  us,  and  bear 
my  Eleanore  away  to  other  continents,  before  another 
hand  should  clasp  in  love  hers  whom  I  leave  here. 
I  shall  see  thee  once  again.  There  is  no  long  stay  for 
rne  here — perhaps  not  anywhere,  till  age  or  death  shall 
stay  me.  1  look  into  a  wandering,  homeless  future, 
through  which  a  vision  flits,  fading  and  brightening, 
with  the  shifting  tides  of  life,  challenging  my  manhood 
to  all  nobility  of  purpose  and  deed,  but  evermore  chill- 
ing ardor  of  resolution  and  heat  of  performance  by  its 
vanishing  presence. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  299 

"  Alas !  dear  Eleanore,  it  is  poor  comfort  to  boast 
my  philosophy.  One  hour's  high  converse  with  thee 
were  worth  years  of  self-building  like  this ;  one  day  of 
thy  friendly  presence — how  would  it  enrich  me  again  ! 
Yet  the  one  cannot  be,  and  the  other  shall.  Have  I 
manhood,  and  shall  I  yield  it  to  any  but  God  who  gave 
it  ?  There  is  action  left  to  me — wars  to  be  fought, 
with  Nature,  if  not  with  men — insensate  rocks  and 
mountains  to  be  rent  asunder,  that  the  thunder  of 
commerce  may  smite  across  the  continents — oceans  to 
be  searched,  beneath  burning  suns  or  polar  darkness — 
deserts  to  be  penetrated — arts  of  peace  and  arts  of  war, 
not  yet  wholly  superfluous,  to  be  made  subservient  to 
men — oppressed  peoples  to  be  freed,  and  darkened  ones 
to  be  brought  to  the  light. 

"  I  shall  consecrate  thee  on  some  of  these  fields,  and 
there  win  again  courage  into  the  bosom  where  thou 
earnest  unbidden,  and  reignest  in  desolation,  O  queen 
of  my  soul. 

"Farewell!  J.  L.  A." 


CHAPTER    XXXYII. 

I  did  not  read  this  letter  without  tears  from  my  own 
eyes,  and  when  I  looked  up,  Eleanore  sat  with  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands,  which  rested  on  the  table.  So 
keen,  so  determined,  so  brave  a  heart  as  this  was ! 
I  could  see  all  the  conflict  in  it.  I  could  read  in  the 
eagle  eye  the  momentary  flashes  of  hopeful  resolve  and 
the  shadow  of  instant  pain  chasing  them  away.  I  could 
read  the  hope  of  escape  in  some  scheme  laid  in  far-off 
lands,  whither  he  would  go ;  and  see  him  the  next  mo- 
ment brought  back  a  willing  prisoner,  hugging  the  fet- 
ters that  held  him. 

"  Eleanore,"  I  said,  feeling  disposed  to  assume  some 
authority,  "  you  will  not  leave  this  letter  unanswered, 
surely." 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  she  replied.  u  It  calls  for  no  an- 
swer, either  in  word  or  spirit ;  and  there  is  but  one 
that  would  be  better  written  than  unwritten." 

"  Then  let  it  be  that  one,"  I  said,  earnestly,  "  and 
send  it.  "  If  you  do  not,  I  shall  think  there  is  a  wan- 
ton cruelty  in  your  nature,  which  at  least  your  enlight- 
enment ought  to  restrain.  If  you  were  a  narrow, 
ignorant  woman,  yet  clothed  with  the  personal  power 
you  have,  and  delighting  a  poor  vanity  by  its  exercise, 
I  could  sooner  forgive  you  than  now." 

"  Your  severity  is  very  honest,  Anna.  I  must 
think  before  I  act.  This  letter  makes  his  nature  better 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.       .  301 

known  to  rne  than  I  should  have  thought  possible  by 
any  length  of  mere  correspondence.  It  gives  me  great 
light,  and  assures  me  in  some  things  wherein  I  was  not 
before  assured.  It  proves  a  largeness  of  life  and 
capacity  of  soul  such  as  I  hoped  for,  but  might  well 
have  been  disappointed  in  finding,  with  all  the  prom- 
ise there  was  of  it.  It  makes  me  richer  than  an  em- 
press, for  few  men  grow  to  such  unselfish  mold  and  tem- 
per as  this,  Anna,  unless  there  is  in  them  a  greatness  of 
soul  capable  of  almost  anything ;  and  I  think  I  should 
no  longer  fear  to  confess  to  him  what  I  have  to  say, 
were  it  not,  that,  in  my  present  position,  I  must  not 
summon  a  master  to  my  side.  I  have  learned  much 
of  him,  it  is  true,  but  I  have  much  yet  to  do  with  my- 
self before  that  day  comes. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  unmistakably  wrong, 
now,  Eleanore.  There  can  be  neither  justice  nor  gen- 
erosity in  exposing  one  to  such  suffering  as  this." 

"  I  must  do  what  my  inmost  life  demands  of  me," 
she  replied.  "  Remember  I  am  a  woman,  and  not  an 
ignorant  girl,  as  I  was  ten  years  ago,  when  I  had  such 
a  question  to  decide ;  and  though  this  is  first  love  to 
me— nay,  never  look  so  astonished,  dear  friend — and 
though  I  dare  not  tell  you  how  it  pervades  my  whole 
being,  sweetening  the  meanest  of  my  toils,  and  taking 
away  all  heroism  from  my  endurance,  yet,  in  the  union 
to  which  I  look  forward,  I  must  have  my  own  position 
and  individuality.  I  should  do  myself  and  my  hus- 
band both  injustice  in  surrendering  these  in  any  degree 
to  feelings  which  conflict  with  my  judgment.  There 
is  much  belonging  to  the  relation  of  marriage,  Anna, 
beside  the  love  which  should  precede  its  existence ; 
but  when  that  is  confessed,  both  parties  are  too  apt, 
I  think,  to  hurry  over  all  other  considerations,  and 


302  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

assume  positions,  which,  neither  of  them  having  fully 
weighed  and  estimated,  may,  for  that  reason,  become 
sources  of  pain  and  disappointment,  instead  of  happi- 
ness and  fruition.  I  can  never  again  risk  so  fearfully 
as  a  woman  does,  in  entering  on  that  relation,  till  botli 
of  us  fully  understand  each  other's  views  of  it.  You 
look  surprised  ;  you  would  be  more  so,  perhaps,  were  I 
to  tell  you  all  I  mean  by  that ;  but  I  am  speaking  of  a 
calm  determination  to  do  myself  and  my  lover  justice, 
in  un vailing  my  soul  to  him  before  the  world  shall 
hold  us  bound  to  each  other  till  death.  I  cannot, 
therefore,  summon  him  here,  as  I  should  inevitably  by 
replying  to  that  letter — at  least,  not  for  a  time.  I  am 
no  sophist,  and  cannot  spin  invisible  webs  around  a 
truth  which  I  also  never  escape.  I  see  nothing  clear 
to-day,  Anna,  but  to  hold  my  course — the  only  pain  I 
feel  for  him  being,  that  he  has  not  what  I  have,  the 
secret  which  makes  the  desert  bloom,  and  transmutes 
suffering  into  joy.  Perhaps  other  light  will  come  with 
the  coming  days,  and  if  it  does,  do  not  doubt  that  I 
shall  follow  it." 

I  looked  at  her  as  she  sat  there  before  me,  calm  and 
clear  and  splendid  in  her  self-possession,  and  again  my 
eyes  fell  to  the  record  on  my  lap ;  and  much  as  I 
admired  and  loved  her,  I  asked  myself — are  you, 
with  all  your  gifts  and  greatness  of  soul,  worthy  what 
is  here  laid  at  your  feet  ?  The  thought,  no  doubt, 
passed  into  my  face;  for  I  spoke  not,  yet  she  an- 
swered it. 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  "you  question  me,  Anna;  and 
perhaps  I  ought  scarcely  to  wonder  at  it,  for  there  is 
little  seeming  tenderness  in  what  I  am  doing ;  but  I  do 
not  doubt  myself,  and  that  is  best  of  all.  I  will  more 
than  atone  for  all  when  the  day  comes  that  I  may." 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  303 

And  a  nappy  light  rippled  over  her  face  as  she  took 
the  letter,  and  rose  to  answer  a  rap  at  the  door. 

There  had  been  many  while  we  were  sitting,  but  they, 
had  received  no  attention.  Now, when  she  opened  it,  there 
stood  before  her  a  young  man  of  about  thirty,  with  a  face, 
person,  and  bearing,  expressive  of  strongly-marked  indi- 
viduality ;  frank,  well-defined  features ;  a  speaking,  dark 
gray  eye ;  projecting,  heavy  brow ;  of  a  rugged  cast, 
and  an  aspect  which  altogether  indicated  strength 
rather  than  refinement,  and  earnestness  ungraced  with 
any  gentle  culture.  lie  had  in  his  hand  a  carpet-bag, 
and  as  the  door  opened,  he  touched  his  hat  respectfully, 
and  walked  in,  saying  he  wished  to  engage  a  room  for 
a  few  days — a  week,  or  perhaps  a  fortnight.  I  saw 
that  he  was  both  surprised  and  pleased  to  see  such  a  wo- 
man before  him.  He  watched  her  with  a  glowing  eye 
and  pleased  face,  as  she  took  down  the  book,  and,  in- 
quiring his  name,  registered  it,  giving  him  at  the  same 
time  a  key,  and  directing  him  to  the  floor  above,  where 
he  would  find  the  number  it  bore.  He  was  not  in 
haste  to  be  gone,  but  lingered,  asking  some  questions 
about  the  house  and  the  city,  and  informing  her  that 
he  had  not  been  there  for  four  months.  He  said  very 
honestly,  as  a  simple-minded  man  might,  that  he  had 
several  thousand  dollars  in  gold  in  the  satchel,  and  if 
there  were  any  safe  place  of  deposit  in  the  office,  he 
would  rather  leave  it  there  than  in  his  room.  But 
Eleanore  quickly  explained  that  there  was  none — that 
no  responsibility  of  that  sort  could  be  assumed,  and 
added  :  "  I  shall  be  obliged  to  excuse  myself,  now,  sir. 
I  have  employments  elsewhere  that  demand  my 
presence;"  then,  speaking  to  me,  we  both  went  out 
together,  followed  by  the  stranger,  whose  name  was 
Harding.  But  at  the  door  we  were  met  by  Phil  and 


304  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

Antonio,  and  Eleariore  turned  back,  to  lay  aside  Phil's 
walking  habiliments. 

Mr.  Harding  looked  at  the  child ;  his  eyes  filled,  and 
a  flush  of  emotion  passed  over  his  face.  "  That  is  the 
most  beautiful  sight,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  seen  for  three 
years  ;"  and  down  went  the  treasure  on  the  floor,  as  if  it 
had  been  dirt  under  his  feet,  and  up  went  Phil — a  little 
nervous  and  shy  of  the  strange  face  and  voice,  but 
quite  overborne  by  the  whole-hearted,  loving  earnest- 
ness of  the  man. 

"  Will  you  let  me  have  this  little  fellow  out  some- 
times, when  we  get  better  acquainted  ?"  he  asked,  of 
the  mother. 

"  I  dare  say,"  she  replied,  "  he  will  be  glad  to  go 
with  anybody  who  is  fond  of  having  him.  Will  you 
go  with  this  gentleman,  Phil,  to  take  a  walk  ?" 

"  T'rnorrows,  mamma  " — putting  his  hand  safely  in 
hers  and  looking  at  the  stranger  :  meaning  some  day 
or  days  in  the  indefinite  future. 

"  But  you  walk  more  with  me,  Phil,"  said  Antonio, 
who  stood  by,  jealously  guarding  his  own  rights. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  child,  looking  grave,  as  if  the  ques 
tion  of  the  future  disposal  of  himself  were  growing 
confused,  with  only  this  one  clear  point  in  it ;  "  yes,  I 
go  with  you,  too  lay  sure" 

This  inimitable  attempt  at  French  made  us  all 
laugh,  Antonio,  who  had  been  the  teacher,  heartiest  of 
any,  and  thus  we  dispersed. 

Mr.  Harding  came  into  the  office  at  evening  and  sat 
down,  as  if  socially  disposed,  and  quite  unaware  that 
the  proceeding  was  not  in  order.  He  was  more  com- 
municative than  curious,  which  was  less  remarkable  for 
a  Yankee  than  it  would  have  been  had  he  not  been 
able  to  learn  about  us  all  that  he  might  desire  to  know 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  305 

from  outside  persons  during  the  day.  He  told  us  that 
he  had  come  from  the  southern  mines,  to  meet  a  bro- 
ther, from  the  northern  part  of  the  State,  who  was  ex- 
pecting his  wife  on  the  next  steamer  ;  and  he  seemed 
full  of  happy  anticipations  of  the  meeting.  He  should 
bring  them  there,  he  said,  if  we  had  a  room  for  them. 
The  steamer  was  hourly  expected,  and  he  looked  for 
his  brother  by  the  Sacramento  boat,  that  evening. 

He  delighted  himself  with  Phil  before  that  young 
gentleman's  bed- time  came,  and  took,  with  an  altoge- 
ther amazing  rapidity  and  ease,  to  the  shade  of  the 
little  family- tree  we  cultivated  in  those  two  narrow 
rooms. 

"  He  is  a  new  character,"  I  said,  to  Eleanore. 

"  Yes,  but  he'll  sing  the  old  song  to  one  or  other  of 
us ;  you  may  rely  upon  that.  I  see  it  already,  and  that 
is  what  enrages  and  humiliates  me.  Social  distance 
is  altogether  lost  here.  It  doesn't  matter  to  the  ques- 
tion he  will  ask  of  you  or  me,  two  or  three  days,  or  pos- 
sibly as  many  weeks  hence,  that  at  home  the  man 
would  never  have  spoken  to  us.  Yery  honest,  very 
worthy,  and  withal  an  affectionate  person,  I  have  no 
doubt,  Anna ;  but  why  cannot  he  and  the  others  under- 
stand, that,  though  we  are  in  a  menial  position  here, 
we  are  the  same  women  that  we  should  be  in  our  own 
at  home  ?  Do  I  so  look  or  act,"  she  asked,  indignantly, 
"  as  to  warrant  any  man  who  has  eyes  in  the  belief 
that  I  respect  myself  less  in  making  beds  and  sweeping, 
than  I  should  in  a  mansion,  as  its  mistress  ?  A.m  I  so 
meek  and  craven,  that  every  man  has  a  right  to  say  to 
himself,  i  There,  that  poor  woman,  I  think,  would  be 
glad  to  have  me  marry  her,  and  take  her  out  of  that 
place '  ?" 

"  JSTot  a  bit  of  it,"  I  replied,  laughing  at  the  absurd 


306  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

contrast  to  her  proud,  defiant  carriage  and  aspect,  more 
especially  at  that  moment,  when  she  stood  with  eyes 
and  nostril  dilated,  and  clenched  right  hand  upraised, 
to  enforce  the  question  which  could  only  be  whispered. 
"  Never  accuse  yourself  on  that  score,  dear  Eleanore. 
There  is  scarcely  anything  I  could  not  believe  of  you 
more  easily." 

"  Well,  then,"  she  said,  laughing,  more  than  half 
in  suppressed  indignation,  "  why  can't  they  understand 
that  here,  as  well  as  in  New  York  or  New  England  ? 
There  is  no  use  in  talking,  dear ;  these  dreadful  offers 
are  hardly  less  offensive  to  my  pride  than  some  of  our 
other  experiences;  and  if  telling  one  of  these  well- 
meaning  persons  so  would  put  a  stop  to  them,  I  should 
do  it,  the  very  first  time  another  honored  me  with  pro- 
posals ;  I  should,  if  I  did  hurt  his  self-love." 

"  But  it  would  be  instruction  thrown  away,"  I  said  ; 
"  and,  in  most  cases,  a  deep  wound  given,  whose  pain 
would  leave  no  wisdom  after  it ;  so  I  think  you  had 
better  take  them  quietly,  as  you  have,  and  meekly  say, 
4  Thank  you,  sir ;  you  propose  me  great  honor,  and 
your  kindness  is  inestimable  ;  but  I  am  prevented  from 
accepting  the  one  or  availing  myself  of  the  other.'  " 

It  was  fortunate  that  the  bed  was  between  my 
friend  and  me,  at  these  words,  or  I  should  have  re- 
ceived proof  on  the  spot  of  how  ill  they  sat  upon  her 
outraged  dignity,  in  a  pinch  of  the  cheek  or  a  tweak 
of  the  ear,  or  some  other  little  personal  chastisement, 
which  I  delighted,  above  all  things,  to  provoke  her  to, 
there  was  such  downright  good- will  to  it  in  her  eyes 
and  lips  and  hands,  when  she  let  herself  undertake 
it.  If  she  had  been  a  man,  one  would  scarcely  have 
enjoyed  rousing  the  same  spirit. 


CHAPTER    XXXYIII. 

IS'ext  morning  Mr.  Harding  brought  in  and  formally 
introduced  his  brother,  thereby  putting  himself  upon 
the  footing  of  an  acquaintance.  The  brother  was 
scarcely  less  a  character  than  himself,  and  both  had  an 
astonishing  facility  of  assuming,  without  oifending 
against  anything  but  taste,  upon  the  civility  which 
their  unmistakable  honesty  commanded.  It  would 
have  been  as  easy  to  rebuke  angrily  a  blind  man  for 
coining  too  near  you,  as  them. 

The  married  brother  was  all  ear.  Every  sound  that 
bore  the  remotest  resemblance  to  a  heavy  gun — the 
slamming  of  boards  in  the  unfinished  buildings  near — 
the  quick  closing  of  a  heavy  door  below — startled  him. 
"  Wasn't  that  the  steamer  ?  1  thought  I  heard  a  gun. 
Didn't  you  hear  a  gun,  John  ?"  It  was  really  affecting 
to  see  how  entirely  he  devoted  himself  to  that  coming 
ship — how  he  deferred  everything  to  that.  "After 
Caroline  comes,"  was  his  answer  to  every  proposition 
from  his  brother ;  and,  in  the  fullness  of  his  heart,  he 
explained  to  me  tliat  he  had  married  a  very  young 
girl,  to  whom  he  was  much  attached,  only  the  day  be- 
fore sailing,  nearly  eighteen  months  ago ;  and  that  it 
would  be  the  happiest  day  of  his  life — much  happier 
than  his  wedding-day — when  she  should  come  to  him 
here.  One  could  not  but  feel  interested  in  this  meet- 
ing, and  Eleanore  and  I  planned  to  give  them  the  best 


308  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

and  pleasantest  room  in  the  house,  if  they  took  one 
there,  and  to  take  the  young  creature  into  friendly  re- 
lations while  she  should  stay :  provided,  always,  she 
should  prove  as  candid  and  straightforward  a  person  as 
her  husband. 

Three  days  went  by,  and  there  was  yet  no  steamer. 
Our  friend  expectant  began  to  pass  into  the  anxious 
stage  of  his  waiting,  and  his  brother  John,  improving 
his  time  with  Phil — as  well  from  a  desire  to  approach 
the  mother's  heart  as  to  satisfy  his  own  with  the  rare 
indulgence  of  a  child's  humor  and  caresses— had  quite 
installed  himself  in  the  position  of  companion  to  that 
young  person,  who  became  thereby  the  possessor  of 
various  gold  and  silver  coins,  varying  in  value  from  one 
to  five  dollars. 

"  He  will  not  take  it,  mamma,"  said  Phil,  one  after- 
noon, when  he  returned  with  a  five-dollar  piece  in  his 
hand,  which  she  had  promptly  ordered  him  to  carry 
back  to  Mr.  Harding.  "  He  will  not  take  it.  He  say 
he's  got  a  great  many,  and  he  don't  want  it." 

"  Then,  Phil,  you  can  give  it  to  Antonio  to-morrow, 
for  taking  you  out  every  day." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  child,  delighted  at  the  idea ; 
"  so  I  will.  It's  very  pretty,  mamma,  and  I  believe 
Antonio  will  like  it.  Do  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  iny  darling ;  it  will  buy  him  a  pair  of  shoes, 
or  a  hat,  or  a  vest.  It  will  do  him  good,  and  you  do 
not  want  it,  you  know." 

"  No,  I  don't  want  it,  mamma  ;  and  I'll  give  it  to 
him  next  day." 

Mr.  John  Harding  stood  in  the  office,  with  me, 
while  this  was  passing,  audibly,  in  the  next  room.  He 
looked  a  little  grave,  and  chagrined  also,  but  said  no- 
thing ;  and  I  thought — you  will  perhaps  put  off  your 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  309 

proposal  forty-eight  hours  in  consequence  of  it.  Mr. 
William,  the  expectant,  was  roaming  the  streets  most 
of  the  time,  his  impatience  forbidding  much  sitting  still, 
watching  the  telegraphs,  gathering  conjectures,  and 
chasing  down  winged  rumors,  being  more  endurable. 

The  growing  city  was  tilled  with  noise  and  alive 
with  hurrying  crowds — still  men,  men,  men  ;  a  woman 
almost  as  rarely  seen  as  when  we  came.  Merchandise 
in  thousands  of  tons  was  disgorged  every  week  upon 
the  wharves,  and  shipped  away  up  the  country,  or 
stored  in  dismasted  vessels  lying  out  in  the  harbor — 
storehouses  being  yet  wholly  inadequate  ;  the  gambling- 
houses  and  drinking-shops  were  yet  thronged,  both 
with  residents  and  comers  and  goers ;  and  amid  all  the 
excitement  of  these  various  doings,  Mr.  William  en- 
deavored to  kill  the  time,  that  could  not  be  spent  in- 
doors, or  in  making  inquiries,  which  HO  one  had  any 
better  means  of  answering  than  himself.  He  strolled 
in  from  time  to  time,  and  then,  if  he  found  one  of  us 
at  leisure,  he  would  relate  what  he  had  seen  or  heard, 
or  give  us  some  incident  which  the  peculiar  life  he 
mixed  with  had  furnished  him.  I  remember  his  telling 
one  evening,  with  great  relish,  an  anecdote  of  a  woman 
taking  a  young  child  to  one  of  the  theaters.  It  began 
to  cry,  and  the  orchestra  played  with  increased  energy, 
to  drown  the  unusual  sound. 

"  Stop  them  d — d  fiddles,  and  let  the  baby  cry !" 
shouted  a  rough-looking  miner,  from  the  pit.  "  I  hain't 
heerd  such  music  in  two  year."1' 

"  I  reckon  that  man  had  about  the  right  sort  of 
heart  in  him,  if  his  clothes  wan't  the  finest,"  concluded 
the  narrator. 

Sunday  and  Monday  were  gone.  Tuesday  came. 
"To-day,"  he  said,  as  I  met  him  in  the  hall,  "she 


310  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

will  certainly  be  here.  I  dreamed  last  night  that  she 
came,  so  plain  and  natural  to  me,  that  I  am  determined 
to  believe  in  it,  Miss  Warren." 

Ten  o'clock  came,  and  no  gun.  But  at  a  little  be- 
fore eleven,  that  was  one,  surely.  Yes,  that  was  one,  for 
there  goes  to  the  peak  of  the  telegraph  station  the 
signal,  bearing  the  magic  letters,  U.  S.  M.  Now  they 
rush  to  the  wharf  to  await  her — thousands  of  men 
surging  back  and  forth  on  the  narrow  tongue  that 
shoots  out  over  the  water.  In  a  short  time  there  fol- 
lows the  second  gun,  which  announces  her  entrance 
within  the  Golden  Gate ;  and  then  there  is  another 
rush,  and  more  hurried  talking  ;  and,  shortly  after,  the 
great,  dingy-looking  ship  heaves  up,  and  stretches  her- 
self, with  a  fearful  roar  from  her  iron  throat,  "  along- 
side." Heaven  help  the  poor  people  who  have  to  land 
— women,  with  children,  to  make  way  through  that 
endless  crowd  !  It  reaches  away  back  into  the  city — 
nay,  it  will  press  them  to  the  very  doors  of  their  ho- 
tels. There  go,  in  a  surprisingly  short  space  of  time, 
the  great  mail-wagons,  one  after  another,  piled  up  with 
bags  innumerable.  Three,  four  of  them,  beside  a  cart, 
and  they  will  return  again  and  again,  and  perhaps 
some  of  them  the  fourth  time,  before  the  mail  matter  is 
all  transferred  to  the  office.  Such  is  the  growth  of  this 
yearling  child  of  the  Republic. 

I  went  up  stairs  to  the  room  prepared  for  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Harding,  to  assure  myself  that  all  was  right  in  it, 
and  carried  along  a  tumbler  of  flowers,  which  Phil  and 
Antonio  had  bought  in  the  market,  by  Eleanore's  re- 
quest, for  that  purpose.  She  was  writing  a  letter,  and 
begged  me  to  see  that  she  had  time  to  finish  it ;  "  For, 
you  know,  dear,"  she  said,  "  that  we  shall  scarcely 
stop  to  speak  for  the  next  three  days." 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  311 

Every  steamer  so  overwhelmed  us  with  the  rush  of 
strangers — people  who  would  take  a  blanket  and  pil- 
low anywhere,  if  a  bed  could  not  be  had — for  two 
nights  or  one  night — just  till  they  could  get  ready  to 
start  to  their  place  of  destination. 

Presently  our  party  came — the  two  brothers  and 
the  wife — a  tidy,  compact  little  creature,  with  a  bright 
face ;  well  and  quietly  dressed,  but  wonderfully  dis- 
trait, I  thought,  in  expression  and  manner.  As  I 
looked  at  them,  she  seemed  to  be  ice,  to  his  fire.  Is  it 
the  strangeness  of  everything — I  questioned — that 
makes  her  receive  his  demonstrations  as  if  she  were  but 
half  awake?  There  is  no  heartiness  to  answer  him. 
And  I  thought  John  observed  the  same  thing.  She 
was  a  stranger  to  him,  as  to  me.  They  all  went  up 
stairs,  and  we  saw  no  more  of  them  that  day,  nor  the 
next,  and  but  little,  indeed,  for  four  days,  till  our 
household  was  reduced  to  near  its  ordinary  numbers 
again,  and  we  found  ourselves  with  the  possibility  of  a 
minute's  leisure,  now  and  then.  The  brothers  we 
occasionally  met  in  the  passages,  and  both  of  us  agreed 
that  there  was  cloud  where  there  ought  to  have  been 
sunshine.  "What  could  it  mean  ? 

On  the  fourth  day  a  man  had  come,  while  both  the 
brothers  were  out,  and  inquired  for  her  of  me.  I  di- 
rected him  to  her  room,  thinking  nothing  of  it,  or  that 
he  was  some  old  acquaintance  come  to  pay  a  visit  of 
welcome  to  her ;  but  I  chanced  to  be  engaged  in  the 
upper  passage  when  he  took  leave,  and  unconsciously 
glancing  up  as  the  door  opened,  I  saw  a  pale,  tearful 
face  lifted  toward  his,  with  an  appeal  so  touching  and 
painful  in  its  glance,  that  it  went  to  my  heart  at  once. 

"  I  will  come  to-morrow,"  he  said,  kindly. 

"  Oh,  do  !"  was  the  reply ;  "  I  shall  die  here,  alone." 


312  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

What  words  were  those  for  a  wife — a  bride,  indeed 
— to  a  stranger  ?  I  stood  aghast,  chilled,  for  I  had  al- 
lowed myself  to  become  interested  in  this  little  soul, 
and  in  her  husband's  happiness  in  her,  before  she  came. 
But  what  to  do  ?  Should  I  speak  to  Eleanore  ?  And 
what  should  I  say  ?  One  must  have  seen  the  face  and 
heard  the  tones,  as  I  did,  to  feel  the  full  force  of  what 
I  felt.  And  who  was  this  man  ?  Might  he  not  be  a 
brother,  or  relative,  who  had  a  lawful  right  to  console 
her,  if  she  were  lonely  and  unhappy  ?  But  if  all  were 
right,  how  could  she  need  this  consolation,  with  so  de- 
voted a  husband  and  so  kind  a  brother  ? 

The  men  were  getting  ready  to  go  up  the  country 
to  their  mining.  They  had  determined  to  go  together, 
and  were  now  making  their  preparations  to  start  on 
Monday  afternoon.  Mrs.  Harding's  meals  were  served 
as  ours  were,  in  her  own  room,  and  the  next  day  she 
had  company  to  dinner — the  same  man.  I  noted  him 
carefully  this  time — a  fact  which  he  testified  his  un- 
thankfulness  for  in  the  rude  stare  with  which  he  hur- 
ried past  me,  entering  her  room  unbidden,  with  only  a 
slight  preliminary  tap  on  the  door. 

There  were  broken  exclamations — not  of  grief — 
words  which  came  to  me  in  the  momentary  intervals 
of  the  noise  of  my  sweeping  and  dusting — and  I  felt 
certain  from  that  time,  that,  whoever  this  was,  he  was 
more  welcome  than  husband  or  brother.  I  was  bur- 
dened with  this  secret  now,  for  it  became  distinctly 
such  from  that  hour.  I  knew  by  the  furtive  manner 
of  the  man — by  the  time  chosen  for  his  visits,  and  the 
welcome  he  received — that  he  would  not  have  met  the 
husband  for  his  right  hand.  Then  I  thought — this 
poor  young  child  !  something  ought  to  be  done  to  save 
her  from  destroying  her  own  and  her  husband's  happi- 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  313 

ness.  I  pondered  what  I  had  seen  and  neard,  and 
finally  determined  not  to  take  Eleanore  into  my  confi- 
dence, for  a  while,  at  least.  She  was  ardent,  decisive, 
and  if  not  in  the  right  mood,  would  perhaps  be  rash  in 
acting  on  the  facts.  She  had  not  been  interested  in 
Mrs.  Harding,  as  she  had  hoped  to  be  before  her  com- 
ing ;  and  as  they  were  going  away  soon — it  was  now 
Saturday — I  thought  it  best  to  watch  my  own  oppor- 
tunity to  do  anything  I  could  for  the  benefit  of  either 
party,  and  let  events  take  their  course.  Perhaps  there 
was  nothing  else  that  I  could  have  done :  but  what 
happened  soon  after  made  me  repent  that  I  had  not 
divided  the  responsibility  of  my  knowledge  with  some 
one. 

The  visitor  staid  long.  I  got  through,  and  went 
down  stairs ;  but  I  made  a  point  of  seeing  when  he  went 
out.  I  almost  hoped  that  Mr.  John  would  come  in  and 
meet  him  there.  But  he  did  not. 

"We  had  seen  little  of  this  .gentleman  since  the  arri- 
val, and  Eleanore  said,  laughingly,  that  she  believed 
we  should  be  disappointed,  after  all ;  for,  of  late,  there 
was  nothing  that  looked  like  a  proposal. 

The  Hardings  came  in  after  supper,  and  as  they  were 
going  out,  about  eight  o'clock,  William  stopped  at  the 
ofiice-door,  and  said  :  "  My  wife  is  not  well  this  evening, 
Mrs.  Brornfield,  and  I  should  be  very  glad  if  you'd  go 
up  and  see  her,  by-and-by.  She  don't  seem  as  happy, 
anyhow,  as  I  was  in  hopes  she  would  ;  but  I  guess  that 
will  wear  off  after  we've  got  home  and  settled." 

"  One  of  us  will  go  up  to  her,  presently,"  replied 
Eleanore.  "  We  should  have  seen  more  of  her  during 
her  stay,  had  we  not  been  so  hurried  ;  but  I  suppose 
your  company  has  been  the  most  welcome  she  could 
have  had." 
14 


314  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  women,  I  s'pose,  un- 
derstand each  other  better  than  men  can  understand 
them,  and  she's  a  little  shy  like,  after  being  so  long 
separated,  you  know.  She  don't  tell  me  her  feelings, 
as  she  would  if  we  had  lived  together  more." 

John  stood  by  in  silence  while  these  few  words  were 
being  said ;  and  his  face  wore  a  troubled,  puzzled  ex- 
pression, as  if  the  case  were  quite  beyond  him. 

After  they  were  gone,  I  urged  Eleanore's  going  up 
directly,  and  said  :  "  Perhaps  she  has  some  trouble  of 
mind  or  heart  that  you  can  help  her  in.  The  woman 
is  evidently  unhappy,  and  I  do  wish  you  would  appeal 
to  her,  as  you  know  how  to  so  well,  and  win  her  con- 
fidence. It  may  be  the  saving  of  them  both  in  this 
dreadful  country." 

"  One  might  suppose  she  was  on  the  verge  of  ruin,  by 
your  earnestness,  Anna,"  said  my  friend.  "  I  will  speak 
kindly  and  encouragingly  to  her;  but  I  don't  know 
that  I  can  do  more ;  and  I'll  take  the  little  king  along. 
If  she  is  fond  of  children,  it  will  help  her  to  have  a 
sight  of  his  precious  face  and  eyes — bless  them  !  And 
if  she  isn't,  we  can't  hope  much  for  her — can  we,  dar- 
ling ?"  pushing  back  his  curls,  and  covering  him  from 
hair  to  chin  with  kisses. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  with  the  solemnity  of  a  witness 
under  examination,  which  provoked  another  round  of 
kisses,  and  then  they  started,  hand  in  hand,  gleeful 
and  gay,  for  Mrs.  Harding's  room. 


CHAPTER     XXXIX. 

I  was  busy  with  a  little  sewing,  and,  for  a  Saturday 
evening,  the  house  was  unusually  still,  most  of  the 
lodgers  being  out.  I  had  only  two  or  three  calls  at  the 
office,  and  was  closing  the  door  after  the  last  applicant, 
when  I  saw  Mrs.  Harding's  visitor  pass  by.  Of  course 
I  could  not  but  feel  deeply  interested  to  know  the  re- 
sult of  the  meeting  that  must  take  place.  And  I 
thought — I  am  very  glad  I  did  not  speak  to  her,  for 
now  she  will  see  all  with  an  unprejudiced  eye,  and  her 
opinion  will  be  more  just  than  it  would  have  been 
otherwise. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  I  heard  "  little  feet  patter- 
ing "  along  the  passage,  and  a  "  happy  voice  chatter- 
ing," and  the  next  moment  Eleanore  and  Phil  entered 
the  office.  There  was  a  whole  quarto  volume  in  her 
face  ;  but  she  said  nothing  till  she  had  put  Phil  to  bed, 
and  heard  a  summing  up  of  the  day's  pleasures,  which 
often  was  his  fashion  of  prayer,  and  kissed  his  eyes  for 
sleep,  after  which  they  were  nominally  to  remain  closed. 
Then  she  drew  a  chair  close  to  me,  and  asked,  in  a  low 
voice,  if  I  knew  anything  of  Mrs.  Harding  ?" 

"  I  know  what  you  know,"  I  replied,  evasively. 

Do  you  know  of  her  having  any  friend  here  who 
ought  to  enter  her  room  without  the  ceremony  of 
knocking  ?" 

"  No." 


316  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  I  am  afraid  there  is  something  very  wrong,  dear 
Anna.  I  want  to  tell  you,  and  we  must  consider  what 
may  be  done  for  her.  Lay  that  work  down,  now,  a 
moment,  and  hear  me." 

And  then  she  related  what  was  already  known  to 
me,  only  confirming  my  worst  fears  by  her  observa- 
tions on  the  manner  and  appearance  of  the  party. 
"  She  is  as  transparent  as  cobweb,  and  that  man  must 
have  the  heart  of  a  base  hound,  to  hover  around  such 
a  child — a  mere  child — to  ruin  her  peace." 

"  Did  she  introduce  him  to  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  as  a  fellow-passenger  on  the  steamer — Mr. 
Gray.  I  thought  it  was  her  husband,  when  his  step 
came  along  the  hall,  such  an  unconcealable  joy  flashed 
into  her  face  and  braced  up  her  little  figure  as  she 
heard  it.  Poor  thing  !  What  are  we  to  do  about  it, 
Anna?" 

"  What  can  we  do,  but  let  it  go  ?  It  is  a  matter 
one  cannot  easily  meddle  with,  and  they  are  going  so 
soon,  that  I  do  not  see  how  anything  can  be  done. 
Beside,  there  will,  perhaps,  be  no  need.  When  she  is 
separated  from  him,  if  she  has  ever  loved  her  husband, 
she  will  recover  from  this  temporary  infatuation,  and 
all  may  yet  be  well  with  them." 

"  I  fear  not,"  was  her  reply.  "  His  visits  are  evi- 
dently clandestine,  from  what  you  have  seen  before 
this ;  and  his  persistency  in  coming,  and  her  extreme 
and  almost  undisguised  pleasure,  even  in  my  presence, 
at  seeing  him,  argue  the  worst. 

We  were  silent  for  some  minutes,  and  then  Eleanore 
said :  "  Could  not  you  speak  to  the  brother,  and  in 
some  casual  way  mention  these  visits  to  his  sister,  and 
be  guided  by  his  treatment  of  that  fact,  about  proceed- 
ing further?" 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  31  I 

"  Why  not  you,"  I  asked,  "  who  have  met  and 
been  introduced  to  him  ?" 

"  I  could,  but  for  an  unwillingness  to  manifest  an 
interest  that  might  be  misunderstood." 

"  Oh,  throw  that  to  the  winds  !"  I  said.  "  It  is  a 
trifle,  at  most,  and  not  to  be  thought  of." 

But  at  that  moment  there  was  a  rap  on  the  office- 
door,  and  at  the  words,  "  Come  in,"  Mr.  John  Hard- 
ing entered,  saying  to  his  brother,  who  passed  along  at 
the  same  time :  "  I  will  be  up  in  a  minute,  William." 

Eleanore  stepped  quickly  forward,  and  with  instant 
presence  of  mind,  said,  in  tones  of  warning  and  com- 
mand :  "  Go  now,  sir,  right  after  him.  Don't  stop  a 
moment,"  she  added,  seeing  him  about  to  speak. 

The  astonished  man  turned  and  went  several  steps 
down  the  passage,  we  listening,  filled  with  apprehen- 
sion at  the  meeting  above,  where  already  we  heard  the 
husband's  quick  foot  near  the  door  of  his  room.  Then 
John,  unable  to  comprehend  why  he  should  go  thus, 
turned  back  to  ask  what  it  meant.  The  next  moment 
we  heard  a  little  scream — then  the  sound  of  men's 
voices,  in  a  few  hasty,  broken  words — a  scuffle — fear- 
ful groan,  and  a  heavy  fall.  It  was  all  in  the  space  of 
a  minute,  I  think,  but  John  was  already  there  when 
the  fall  shook  the  floor.  We  knew  not  what  to  do, 
but  stood  frozen  with  horror,  fearing  that  the  worst 
had  happened  to  one  or  other  party,  and  unwilling  to 
approach  the  dreadful  scene. 

The  first  words  we  heard  were,  "  Scoundrel,  you 
have  murdered  my  brother !"  and  then  Mrs.  Harding 
fell  into  hysterics,  shrieking  at  every  breath,  and  every- 
body in  the  house  rushed  to  the  spot.  There  were  out- 
cries, and  the  word  "  Murder  !"  shouted  from  the  win- 
dows above,  brought  in  a  crowd.  Before,  however,  a  foot 


318  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

crossed  the  threshold,  Eleanore  stepped  decisively  back, 
drew  me  after  her,  and  closed  and  locked  the  office- 
door.  They  were  already  on  the  stairs  and  in  the  pas- 
sage. There  was  rude  rapping  on  our  door,  but  the 
noise  above  indicating  the  tragic  locality,  they  hurried 
past. 

I  was  filled  with  terror  and  pain  of  heart. 

"  Do  not  stir,"  whispered  Eleanore,  with  bloodless 
face ;  "it  is  past  the  time  for  Mr.  Peters  to  come ;  he 
may  be  here  any  minute,  and  he  must  be  soon.  Then 
there  will  be  no  need  for  us  to  be  seen  at  all.  Good 
God !  if  only  I  had  remained  long  enough  to  prevent 
this  !  How  terrible,  that  instantaneous  thrust  into  the 
dark  future,  with  such  fire  burning  in  the  soul  as  he 
has  gone  with  !" 

"  Those  cries  are  dreadful,"  I  said,  "  and  there  is 
no  woman  near  the  poor  creature — only  a  crowd  of 
fierce,  wondering  men." 

We  heard  slow  steps  over  all  the  light  shuffling,  as 
if  some  heavy  weight  were  being  borne  away ;  and 
presently  men  came  down  stairs,  and  knocked  again  at 
our  door.  This  time  Eleanore  rose  and  opened  it. 
There  were  strangers  there. 

"  There  has  been  a  dreadful  murder  in  your  house, 
ma'am,"  said  the  foremost  man. 

"  I  have  heard  some  sound  of  it,"  she  replied,  "  but 
the  proprietor  of  the  house  is  not  here,  and  we  feel  un- 
willing to  witness  the  horror  we  cannot  lessen  by  our 
presence.  Is  the  man  dead  ?" 

"  Dead,  ma'am ;  stabbed  to  the  heart,  and  never 
breathed  after  I  got  up  there.  There  is  a  woman  who 
needs  some  attention." 

"  And  the  murderer  ?" 

"  Oh,  we  have  him  safe,  till  they  can  find  an  officer. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  319 

lie  is  one  of  our  old  birds ;  been  gone  three  or  four 
mouths,  and  I  didn't  know  he  was  back,  till  I  saw  him 
there  to  night,  with  the  dagger  in  his  hand." 

So  this  was  the  whole  story.  It  was  scarcely  fin- 
ished, when  a  party  of  men  entered  with  the  police, 
and  Gray  was  immediately  removed  to  prison.  The 
crowd  mostly  followed  him,  nearly  vacating  our  house, 
and  then  Eleanore  and  I  went  up  stairs  to  see  Mrs. 
Harding.  We  met  John  in  the  passage,  where  he 
was  walking  fiercely  up  and  down  before  his  room, 
in  which  half  a  dozen  persons  were  disposing  the  body 
upon  his  bed.  He  did  not  look  like  the  same  man  we 
had  known.  His  eyes  shot  an  angry  lightning  from 
under  their  heavy  brows ;  his  face  was  colorless  and 
haggard,  and  the  lines  of  it  had  settled  into  a  grim 
fixedness,  which  gave  him  a  most  relentless,  implacable 
look.  Mrs.  Harding  was  evidently  alone.  Her  door 
stood  open,  and  subdued  cries  and  groans  came  from 
within.  We  both  hesitated  as  we  approached  Mr. 
Harding,  who,  turning  and  coming  up  face  to  face  with 
us,  said,  rudely  and  even  accusingly,  pointing  to  his 
room :  "  There's  a  fine  piece  of  work  for  a  woman ; 
d— n  her !" 

I  was  struck  dumb  by  his  fierce  looks  and  tones  of 
reproach.  They  seemed  to  be  leveled  at  us,  as  well  as 
the  guilty  one.  But  Eleanore,  after  a  moment,  said : 
"  It  is,  indeed,  a  fearful  thing  to  have  happened.  Have 
you  any  idea  of  the  cause  ?" 

"  Yes — infamy  and  shame  in  her,"  he  answered, 
with  a  savage  intensity,  jerking  his  glaring  eyes  to- 
ward her  door.  u  That's  the  cause.  Did  you  know 
anything  about  his  visits  ?"  he  asked,  suddenly.  "  This 
is  not  the  first  time  he's  been  here,  I  guess — is  it  ?" 

"  I  scarcely  know  Mrs.  Harding — " 


320  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  Don't  call  so  curst  a  being  by  his  name !  She's 

"  Sir,"  said  Eleanore,  "  I  excuse  much  in  your  de- 
meanor that  would  be  unpardonable  under  other  cir- 
cumstances ;  but  do  not  forget  that  you  are  speaking 
to  ladies,  and  to  persons  who  have  no  shadow  of  parti- 
cipation in  the  calamity  that  has  befallen  you.  We 
came  up,  not  to  discuss  it,  either,  but  to  render  some 
service,  if  we  could,  to  yourself  and  that  unfortunate 
creature  yonder." 

"  Damn  her — send  her  into  the  street,  where  she 
belongs !"  he  exclaimed. 

And  other  men,  who  had  gathered  about,  seeing  his 
agony,  said :  "  Yes,  into  the  street !"  And  they  moved 
toward  her  door. 

"  Not  to-night,"  said  Eleanore,  firmly,  placing  her- 
self before  them.  "  She  shall  be  taken  care  of  and 
tended  to-night." 

"  I  say  she  ought  to  be  thrown  into  the  street,"  he 
repeated,  "  and  if  this  was  a  decent  house,  she 
would  be." 

u  Mr.  Harding,"  said  Eleanore — and  her  clear,  firm 
voice,  rung  like  a  bell  over  all  the  minor  noises  and 
the  hurried  muttering  of  the  gathering  crowd,  which 
was  now  returning  and  filling  the  house — "  I  am  a  wo- 
man, and  this  unfortunate  sister  of  yours  is  a  woman 
also  ;  and  whatever  her  share  may  be  in  this  crime,  she 
shall  not,  in  her  present  condition,  experience  any  bru- 
tality in  this  house.  There  will  time  enough  come  for 
punishment  and  Buffering,  when  she  is  past  this  shock, 
and  able  to  see  clearly  the  fearful  consequences  of  her 
acts.  This  is  not  a  fit  place  for  her ;  we  cannot  care 
for  her  here.  She  must  go  to  our  room  to-night,  and 
to-morrow  you  will,  perhaps,  think  and  feel  more  as 
becomes  a  man,  and  less  as  an  avenger." 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  321 

We  entered  the  room,  the  crowd  of  men  still  lin- 
gering at  the  door.  The  wretched  woman  sat  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  cowering  against  it,  apparently  frozen 
with  terror  and  fear.  She  lifted  her  glassy  eyes  to 
Eleanore's  face,  as  she  approached  her,  and  in  a  husky, 
sepulchral  voice,  implored  her,  for  God's  sake,  not  to 
let  them  touch  her. 

"  It  would  have  been  happier  for  all  if  you  had 
remembered  that  name  earlier,"  said  Eleanore,  se- 
verely ;  "  but  I  will  do  my  best  for  you,  for  the  sake  of 
the  mother  who  loved  you,  and  the  sisters  you  told  me 
of.  Will  you  try  if  you  can  stand  on  your  feet  and 
get  to  our  room  ?" 

She  raised  her  kindly  from  the  floor,  and  offered  her 
an  arm  to  lean  upon ;  but  the  poor  creature  could  only 
totter,  with  her  help,  to  the  nearest  chair. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't  go,"  she  whispered ;  "  but 
wait  a  minute — don't  leave  me — oh,  don't  leave  me,  if 
you  have  any  mercy  in  your  hearts !" 

"  We  will  not  leave  you,"  I  said ;  for  at  that  mo- 
ment Mrs.  Bromfield  was  called  for  at  the  door,  and 
turned  away  to  speak.  "  We  will  not  leave  you  ;  and 
when  Mr.  Peters  comes,  if  not  before,  you  shall  be 
assisted  to  our  room." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  holding  my  hand  in  a  cold, 
iron  clasp.  "  You  are  very  good." 

"  Mr.  Peters  has  gone  out  of  town,"  said  Eleanore, 
coming  back  from  the  crowd,  "  and  his  brother  is  here 
in  his  place.  There  is  an  army  of  men  there,  Anna, 
and  it  is  increasing  all  the  time.  What,  in  the  name 
of  heaven,  are  we  to  do  ?" 

"  Get  back  to  our  room  as  quickly  as  possible," 
I  said.  "  Will  he  not  help  us  with  her  ?" 

"  He  is  with  them,  and  hasn't,  you  know,  a  spark 
14* 


322  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

of  courage.  Could  you  walk  now,  do  you  think  ?"  she 
asked  of  Mrs.  Harding,  "  with  me  to  help  you,  so,  and 
Miss  Warren  on  the  other  side  ?" 

"  I  will  try,  if  you  think — it  will  be  best — will  they 
let  us  go  ?"  with  a  terrified  glance  toward  the  door. 

"  Yes ;  if  you  can  walk,  I  will  make  our  way  good. 
Come — there  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  Come  between  us, 
and  hold  yourself  up  as  well  as  you  can." 

The  faces  of  men  were  pressing  eagerly  into  the 
door- way,  but  not  a  foot  had  crossed  the  threshold.  As 
we  approached  it,  holding  her,  each  of  us,  by  an  arm 
about  her  waist,  Eleanore  said,  looking  directly  into 
the  nearest  eyes :  "  Gentlemen,  will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  give  us  passage  ?  This  person  is  ill,  and  we 
wish  to  get  her  where  she  can  be  taken  care  of." 

There  was  a  little  shuffling  of  feet,  but  no  way 
opened.  A  large,  burly  figure,  nearly  filled  the  door- 
way, which  seemed  to  have  worked  its  way  there  while 
she  was  speaking.  She  now  appealed  directly  to  him  : 
"  Will  you  be  kind  enough,  sir,  to  let  us  pass  ?" 

"  They  say  she  ought  to  go  to  prison  with  him,"  he 
replied.  "Is  it  there  you  are  going  with  her ?  If  it 
is,  I'll  help  you,  and  welcome." 

"  Yes,  to  prison,"  muttered  several  voices  near  by ; 
and  the  word,  "  prison,"  came  up  from  the  farther 
end  of  the  passage. 

At  these  sounds,  the  poor  creature's  strength  seemed 
entirely  to  fail  her  ;  she  hung  more  and  more  heavily 
upon  us,  and  the  next  moment  her  head  fell  on  my 
shoulder  in  a  dead  swoon. 

"  Savages !  hounds !"  said  Eleanore,  seizing  the 
drooping  form  in  her  arms,  which  seemed  suddenly  en- 
dued with  the  strength  of  the  strongest  man ;  "  is  there 
no  human  heart  among  you,  that  you  can  persecute  in 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  323 

this  way  a  small,  helpless,  friendless  woman  ?  Stand 
back  and  give  me  way  with  her,  and  let  any  man 
touch  either  of  us  at  his  peril!  Come  along,  Miss 
Warren."  And  she  moved  off  through  the  shamed, 
irresolute  crowd,  with  her  helpless  burden — not  a  hand 
or  a  voice  hindering. 

As  we  went  down  the  stairs  and  along  the  passage, 
astonished  men  gave  way  before  us,  and  more  than  one, 
seeing  that  superhuman  effort,  reached  forth  his  hands 
to  relieve  her,  but  she  answered  with  her  blazing  eyes, 
and  they  fell  back  in  silence. 

"  Lock  the  door,"  she  said,  as  we  passed  into  the 
office ;  and  she  dropped  the  woman  on  our  bed,  and 
fell  into  the  nearest  chair,  scarcely  more  alive  herself 
than  she  was. 

I  offered  her  water  and  opened  a  window,  fearing 
that  she,  too,  would  faint ;  but  she  put  away  my 
cares,  and  said :  "  See  to  her,  Anna ;  I  shall  breathe 
directly ;  and  yet,  perhaps  it  would  be  better  she  never 
should  again — the  poor  little  wretch !  What  ruin  she 
has  wrought !" 

"  This  is  all  the  worse  for  us,"  I  said,  that  Mr.  Pe- 
ters is  absent  to-night.  If  he  were  only  here,  to  speak 
to  those  people  !  There,  they  are  already  at  the  door 
again." 

"  I  will  go  in  a  minute,"  she  said.  "  I  think  there 
will  be  no  violence  offered,  after  what  they  have  seen, 
and  if  it  looks  threatening,  I  will  send  for  a  policeman. 
This  is  a  position  !"  she  added,  with  irrepressible  irrita- 
bility, after  a  moment,  the  knocking  still  continuing. 
"  But  it  shall  end  here.  I  wouldn't  be  exposed  to  the 
chance  of  such  a  scene  again  for  the  house  and  all  it 
holds.  Get  life  into  that  poor  thing,  if  you  can,  Anna, 
while  I  go  to  those  fiends." 


324  THE   IDEAL  ATTAINED. 

The  noise  was  momentarily  increasing,  and  it 
seemed  a  fearful  thing  to  have  to  face  a  determined 
mob  like  that — in  defense  of  a  bad  cause,  too.  But 
she  opened  the  door,  and  held  up  her  blanched  face, 
and  parted  wide  her  unflinching  eyes  upon  them,  as  if 
she  had  power  to  have  crushed  them  all  by  the  sweep 
of  her  arm. 

Her  very  look  held  them  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  What  do  you  want  at  this  door  ?"  she  asked. 

"We  want  to  know  that  that  woman  don't  go 
away,"  was  the  confused  reply  of  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Then  watch,"  she  said,  defiantly,  "  and  be  still. 
This  is  the  only  door  out  of  the  room." 

"  But  we  want  to  know  if  she  is  here  now,"  said  a 
small,  weasel-eyed  man,  stepping  forward,  as  if  he 
would  enter.  •>*  < 

"  Don't  put  your  foot  over  that  door-sill,  sir,"  she 
said,  so  sternly  that  he  shrunk  back.  "The  worn  an 
you  ask  for  lies  in  a  dead  swoon,  in  the  next  room, 
which  is  a  private  chamber  belonging  to  myself  and 
Miss  Warren.  If  you  wish  any  greater  security  than 
her  helplessness  and  my  word  that  she  shall  stay  safely 
there  till  morning,  bring  an  officer — for  no  other  man 
shall  enter  either  of  these  rooms  to-night." 

"  Here  is  a  doctor,"  said  a  voice  from  several  feet 
down  the  hall. 

"  He  is  not  wanted,"  she  replied. 

"  But  she  may  be  dying,"  said  another  ;  "  let  him 
come  in." 

"  If  she  were,  I  think  it  would  be  no  calamity  to 
her  ;  but  she  is  not,  and  he  shall  not  come  here,  but 
with  an  officer." 

"  Bring  that  one  up  that's  down  there  at  the  door," 
was  now  demanded.  "  By ,  somebody  shall  go  in 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  325 

and  see  it  all  right !"  said  the  weasel-eyed  man,  pluck- 
ing up  courage,  now  that  the  lioness  was  looking  else- 
where. 

"  But  it  will  not  be  you,  my  little  hero,"  she  said ; 
at  which  there  was  a  laugh  and  the  exclamations  :  "  By 
thunder,  but  she's  steel,  isn't  she  ?"  and  "  I'd  rather 
fight  under  her  than  Gen.  Scott,  any  day ;  and  then 
another  voice  cried  out :  "  Shame !  Let  the  lady  alone. 
She'll  be  true  to  her  word,  I  swear,  or  I  never  saw  a 
pair  of  true  eyes  in  my  life." 

These  evidences  of  friendly  feeling  in  the  crowd 
were  little  more  agreeable  to  Eleanore  than  their  op- 
posites  had  been  ;  but  she  kept  her  post,  lamp  in  hand, 
and  held  them  at  bay,  till  a  man  made  his  way  to  her 
with  a  badge  on  his  breast,  and  touching  his  hat  civ- 
illy, said  :  "  Madam,  I  wish  to  see  if  you  have  a  woman 
in  here,  who  may  be  implicated  in  the  murder  that  has 
been  done  up  stairs." 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Harding — how  she  shuddered  and  held 
to  me  !  for  she  had  heard  all  these  last  words. 

"  Enter,  sir,"  she  said.  "  You  will  find  her  in  the 
inner  room." 

He  looked  in  at  me,  and  then  her,  and  was  step- 
ping back.  The  mob  waited  in  silence. 

"  Go  in,  if  you  please,  said  Eleanore,  "  and  assure 
yourself  that  there  is  no  door  but  this  by  which  she  can 
escape,  and  nobody  there,  beside  herself,  but  Miss 
Warren  and  my  child ;  and  then,  perhaps,  these  brave 
men  may  think  it  safe  to  leave  us  with  a  guard  here, 
till  morning." 

He  did  this,  and  returned.  "  All  right,  gentlemen," 
he  said.  "  She's  there,  and  a  lady  with  her,  and  she 
can't  get  out,  except  by  this  door.  You  had  better  go 
home  now,  and  I'll  take  care  of  her  here  to-night," 


326  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  Then,  with  your  leave,  sir,  I  will  close  the  door." 

"  Certainly,  ma'am.     That  is  quite  right." 

And  so  the  hard  faces  were  shut  out. 

"  Good  God,"  said  Eleanore  "  what  a  scene  this  is 
for  quiet  women  to  be  forced  into  !  and  I  fear  it  may 
not  be  over  yet.  They  are  demurring  out  there,  I 
know.  Are  you  better  now  2"  she  asked,  approaching 
the  bed. 

"  Yes — but  you  won't  let  them  come  here  and  take 
me  away — will  you  ?"  clutching  at  her  dress. 

"  You  ought  to  feel  pretty  well  assured  by  this  time 
that  I  will  not,  if  you  have  heard  much  that  has  passed. 
Make  yourself  easy  on  that  score.  You  are  safe  for 
to-night." 

"  I  am  very  grateful  to  you  both,"  she  murmured. 
"  I  do  not  deserve  such  kindness,  I  know ;  but,  indeed, 
I  had  nothing  to  do  with — that — that  up  stairs.  In- 
deed I  had  not.  Do,  pray,  believe  me." 

"  I  believe  you,"  replied  Eleanore,  bluntly,  and 
without  a  spark  of  tenderness.  "  I  believe  you,  be- 
cause it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  do  otherwise,  as 
well  as  because  you  say  so.  You  neither  struck  the 
blow,  nor  knew  that  it  was  to  be  struck.  You  are  in- 
nocent of  that — but,  in  another  sense,  guilty  of  the 
whole.  The  law  that  men  have  made  will  not  punish 
you  ;  but  the  law  that  God  has  written  in  your  own 
bosom  will  exact  a  life-long  penalty  from  you." 

She  groaned  and  wept  piteously — ready,  plentiful 
tears,  that  came  to  the  surface  too  quickly  to  promise 
any  very  deep  and  vital  root  of  sorrow.  Yet  I  pitied 
her  profoundly,  and  begged  Eleanore  not  to  be  severe 
on  her  at  such  a  time. 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  be,"  she  said ;  "  but  all  that  is 
ungracious  in  me  is  stirred  by  the  horror  of  the  deed, 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  327 

by  the  position  we  are  thrown  into,  and  the  rudeness 
of  those  excited  men.  Hear  them  crowd  the  halls  and 
hang  about  the  door  below !  What  a  blessing  that 
Phil  sleeps  through  it !  Blessed  sleep,  that  '  the  thun- 
der could  not  break  '  " — kissing  him,  and  beginning  to 
get  back  a  tint  of  the  banished  red  in  her  lips.  "  I  am 
more  fearful,  now,  of  fire,  than  anything  else.  "With 
the  crowd,  and  such  confusion,  it  will  be  a  miracle  if 
the  walls  do  not  catch  from  some  of  the  lamps ;  and  if 
they  should,  nothing  can  save  us." 

"  Young  Peters,"  I  said,  "  will  be  watchful,  I  hope." 

"  Yes,  for  his  own  safety  and  popularity,  Anna, 
more  than  anything  else.  He  would  not  have  offended 
those  men,  by  acting  with  us  to-night,  for  his  left  hand. 
He  will  become  a  candidate  for  office  some  day,  here, 
and  he  wouldn't  have  a  right  deed,  that  was  unpopu- 
lar, remembered  against  him  then,  for  all  his  hopes  of 
greatness.  Pah  !  how  I  loathe  the  truckling  spirit  of 
such  a  life !" 

The  word  now  went  forth  that  the  coroner  had  come. 
There  was  a  steady  movement  up  the  stairs  a  few  min- 
utes, and  then  the  policeman  at  the  door  called  out : 
"No  more  going  up,  gentlemen.  The  coroner  will 
call  a  jury,  and  proceed  to  the  inquest  at  once ;  and  he 
doesn't  want  any  bigger  crowd  than  he's  got  up  there 
now." 

"  There  will  be  another  pleasant  experience,  if  we 
should  be  called  as  witnesses,  said  Eleanore,  with  irre- 
pressible irritation. 

"  But  we  cannot,"  said  I ;  "we  have  no  knowledge 
of  the  affair  whatever.  Why  should  we  be  called  ?" 

"  We  may  not  be,  but  I  fear :  and  the  thought  of 
seeing  that  crowd  again,  is  like  putting  one's  aching 
hand  back  into  the  fire." 


CHAPTEE   XL. 

An  hour  passed  in  which  little  was  spoken — Mrs. 
Harding  alternately  weeping,  groaning,  and  listening 
to  the  chance  words  from  outside  ;  Eleanore  sitting  for 
a  space,  and  then  walking  up  and  down  in  her  impa- 
tience ;  and  I  holding  immovably  my  position  by  the 
bedside,  where  I  was  firmly  anchored  by  the  hand  of 
our  charge. 

"  How  clearly  one  sees,"  said  Eleanore,  at  length, 
in  such  a  country  and  time  as  this,  that  women  are  not 
made  for  men's  places,  and  could  not  fill  them  but  in 
that  perfect  state  of  society  in  which  there  should  be 
no  wrong,  rudeness,  or  selfishness — a  golden  age,  in 
which  government  should  be  superfluous  and  labor 
unnecessary,  where  people  should  literally  live  under 
their  own  vines  and  fig-trees,  with  nothing  to  do  but 
pluck  and  eat  the  fruit." 

"  There  are  better  reasons  for  that  opinion  than 
these  experiences  furnish,"  I  replied ;  "  but  I  should 
rather  hear  what  they  are  doing  up  there,  and  whether 
the  house  is  going  to  be  cleared  to-night,  than  the 
most  eloquent  discussion  of  that  mooted  question." 

"  That's  exactly  where  it  is,  you  see,"  she  said, 
smiling,  and  repeating  the  constant  phrase  of  our  Eng- 
lish laundress.  "  If  I  were  a  man,  now,  I  should  know 
all  about  it,  and  be  able  to  tell  you ;  but  being  a  wo- 
man— both  of  us  women — we  have  to  stay  shut  up 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  329 

here,  waiting  the  good  pleasure  of  those  who  may 
please  to  come  and  tell  us." 

While  the  inquest  was  proceeding,  the  general  stir 
in  the  house  had  died  away  ;  and  there  was  only  the 
sound  of  moving  feet,  and  the  low  hum  of  voices,  from 
that  room  up  stairs.  It  was  but  a  few  minutes  to 
twelve,  when  there  came  a  call  at  the  door,  and  Mrs. 
Harding  was  wanted. 

"  For  what  ?"  asked  Eleanore. 

"  To  be  examined  before  the  coroner,"  was  the  an- 
swer. 

A  great  effort  was  necessary  to  get  her  off,  but  at 
last  it  was  effected :  and  she  importuned  me  so  pite- 
ously  to  accompany  her,  that  I  could  not  refuse.  The 
officer  assisted  her  up  the  stairs,  and  I  followed. 
There  were  not  a  great  many  persons  in  the  passage 
outside,  but  the  room  was  crowded,  and  the  ghastly, 
bloody  corpse  lay,  just  as  he  had  fallen  at  her  door,  on 
the  bed.  Way  was  made  for  us,  and  I  placed  her  near 
the  window,  where  she  could  breathe,  and  have  that 
hideous  spectacle  shut  from  her  view.  John  was  there, 
at  the  bed's  foot,  looking,  if  possible,  more  haggard, 
but  less  merciless  than  he  had  earlier  in  the  evening. 

"  Now,  which  of  these  ladies  is  Mrs.  Harding  f ' 
asked  the  coroner,  blandly,  rubbing  his  hands,  and 
bowing  to  us  both. 

I  thought  he  had  little  need  to  ask  which  of  us  was 
that  unhappy  woman,  but  I  answered  :  "  This  is  Mrs. 
Harding,"  laying  my  hand  lightly  on  her  shoulder. 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Harding !  Unfortunate  business,  ma'am  ; 
but  these  things  will  happen  sometimes.  We  have  to 
make  the  best  of  them,  ma'am." 

No  reply,  but  a  more  deathly  pallor  and  a  glassy 
stare. 


330  THE   IDEAL  ATTAINED. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Harding,  will  you  take  the  oatli  ? 
Put  your  hand  on  the  book,  ma'am.  You  promise,  in 
what  you  shall  state  before  this  court  and  jury,  touch- 
ing the  murder  of  William  Harding,  to  tell  the  truth, 
the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth — so  help 
you  God  F 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  with  a  movement  of  her 
head,  rather  than  any  sound,  though  her  lips  parted. 

"  Kiss  the  book,  ma'am." 

It  went  to  her  lips,  and  then  the  examination  com- 
menced: which  resulted,  after  a  long  and  painful 
questioning — which,  I  must  admit,  was  as  mercifully 
and  delicately  conducted  as  possible — in  eliciting  the 
facts  that  Gray,  as  he  now  called  himself,  was  on  a 
clandestine  visit  to  her;  that  he  had  made  her  ac- 
quaintance, on  the  steamer,  the  third  or  fourth  day 
from  New  York;  had  been  very  kind  to  her,  espe- 
cially in  getting  across  the  Isthmus,  where  they  had  a 
deal  of  trouble ;  that  on  this  side  he  had  shown  her 
every  attention,  and,  a  week  or  so  before  they  landed, 
had  proposed  to  her  to  go  ashore  with  him  at  Monte- 
rey, and  afterward  urged  her  running  away  with 
him  here — the  first  night  they  landed;  that  he  had 
visited  her  four  times  in  this  house,  and  that  she  had 
promised  to  leave  it  and  go  with  him  on  board  the 
Stockton  boat,  next  day,  and  that  he  was  just  about 
leaving  her  room,  when  Mr.  Harding  came ;  that  the 
door  was  locked,  and  Gray  opened  it,  saying,  "  He'll 
have  to  come  in  now,  and  I'll  take  care  of  him,"  or 
something  like  that — she  could  not  exactly  remember 
the  words  ;  that  when  Mr.  Harding  (she  did  not  speak 
the  word  "  husband "  once)  came  in,  he  and  Gray 
met  face  to  face ;  and  Mr.  I!.,  looking  at  him,  said  : 
"  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  and  what  are  you  here  for  ?" 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  331 

raising  his  hand  at  the  same  moment  and  striking  him ; 
that  Gray  returned  the  blow,  she  believed  with  his 
hand  first,  and  said,  "  You  can  know  who  I  am  in  a 
minute,  if  you  want  to ;"  that  they  had  a  scuffle,  first 
in  the  room,  and  Gray,  being  the  more  powerful, 
pushed  Harding  back,  outside  the  door ;  that  then  she 
did  not  see  exactly  what  happened  for  a  moment,  but 
there  were  blows  and  hard  words,  and  the  next  she 
heard  was  a  dreadful  groan  and  a  fall,  -and  then  Gray 
stepped  back,  with  the  bloody  dagger  in  his  hand — 
she  could  not  tell  if  that  was  the  one — and  said,  "  I  be- 
lieve I  have  killed  the  unlucky  dog :  but  he  fought 
like  a  tiger ;"  and  then  Mr.  John  Harding  spoke  ;  and 
she  could  not  distinctly  remember  anything  more,  till 
the  ladies  came  to  take  her  down  to  their  room. 

As  I  said,  this  information  was  got  with  infinite 
difficulty,  the  examination  occupying  nearly  an  hour. 
When  it  was  over,  the  coroner  said  :  "  I  think,  gentle- 
men, we  have  no  need  to  go  further  in  examining  wit- 
nesses, have  we  ?" 

The  jury  agreed  that  they  were  ready  to  render  a 
verdict,  and  we  immediately  retired. 

I  assured  Mrs.  Harding  that  I  had  no  idea  she 
would  be  placed  under  arrest  in  the  morning.  She 
was  so  ingenuous,  and  gave  such  an  uncontradictory 
statement,  broken  as  it  was,  that  I  felt  certain  she 
would  be  exonerated  from  all  guilt  in  the  killing. 
But,  then,  what  should  she  do,  and  where  should  she 
go  ?  These  were  questions  not  easy  to  answer — not 
best  now  to  be  thought  upon.  We  needed  rest,  and 
another  day  would  be  better  for  such  inquiries. 

Eleanore  was  fast  asleep,  lying  on  the  carpet,  with 
a  blanket  and  pillow.  I  did  not  mean  to  awake  her, 
having  my  own  key  to  enter  with;  but  the  noise 


332  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

aroused  her,  and  she  sat  up  instantly :  "  Is  it  done  ?" 
she  asked. 

"  Yes,  all  done,  I  hope." 

"And  the  verdict?" 

"  Not  rendered  yet,  but  just  about  to  be.  "We  can 
go  to  sleep  now  ;  the  officer  at  the  door  said  he  would 
stay  in  the  house  all  night.  Don't  let  us  talk  ;  there 
is  nothing  new,  and  we  want  rest  so  much." 

"  I  thought,"  she  said,  "  you  would  get  some 
blankets,  when  you  came — you  know  you  have  the  key 
of  the  store-room — and  we  could  sleep  here,  giving  Mrs. 
Harding  the  bed  for  the  rest  of  the  night." 

But  that  little  lady  objected,  and  insisted  on  taking 
the  floor  herself. 

Eleanore  refused,  politely  at  first,  but  her  urgency 
at  last  brought  out  the  blunt  truth :  "  I  would  rather 
sleep  where  I  am,  than  change  the  bed.  Pray  lie 
down,  and,  if  you  can,  compose  yourself  to  rest.  I  am 
very  weary,  and  shall  enjoy  quietness  more  than  any- 
thing else." 

"  You  have  some  very  hateful  gifts,"  I  said,  feeling 
almost  angry  with  her.  "  How  can  you — " 

"Dear  Anna,  don't  worry  me.  I  am  dreadfully 
tired,  and  my  arms  and  shoulders  are  full  of  pains  and 
soreness.  Now,  pray,  let  us  rest." 

This  was  sotto  voce  between  us  ;  and  I,  reminded  by 
it  of  the  battle  she  had  fought,  and  the  tremendous  tax 
she  had  laid  upon  her  physical  strength  to  win  it,  for- 
gave her  at  once. 

"  God  bless  you,  dear  child  •!"  I  replied ;  "  I  was 
forgetting  that  you  had  a  right  to  demand  nursing  and 
petting,  instead  of  scolding." 

But  she  was  already  half-gone  in  the  sleep  which 
her  weariness  rendered  irresistible. 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

In  the  morning,  Mrs.  Harding  was  assisted  to  her 
own  room.  John  came  in  to  see  us,  very  much 
softened  from  the  fierce  demeanor  of  the  evening,  and 
evidently  more  than  ever  admiring  the  intrepid  spirit 
that  had  braved  and  defeated  him.  Eleanore  could 
scarcely  raise  her  arms,  and  was  at  last  obliged  to  send 
out  and  hire  a  working  woman  to  come  in  for  that 
day.  There  was  that  to  be  done  up  stairs  which 
neither  of  us,  if  quite  able,  would  have  been  willing  to 
undertake ;  and  so,  we  the  more  readily  consented  to 
the  self-indulgence  of  hiring  a  drudge.  When  this  was 
settled,  and  young  Peters,  who  was  still  there,  had 
gone  for  her,  John  sat  down  and  poured  out,  but  in  re- 
spectful and  more  measured  terms,  his  indignation  and 
grief — mixing  them  up  with  earnest  apologies  for 
some  rudeness  he  feared  he  had  been  guilty  of  last 
night.  He  said  the  funeral  was  to  take  place  that  day, 
at  two  o'clock. 

"  And  what,"  asked  Eleanore,  after  he  had  said  all, 
"  shall  we  do  with  Mrs.  Harding  ?" 

"  If  you  would  oblige  me  so  much,  ma'am,  as  never 
to  call  her  by  our  name,  I  would  be  thankful." 

"  Well,  Caroline,  then — that  is  her  Christian  name. 
1  think «" 

"  Yes." 

"  What  is  to  become  of  her?" 


334  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  God  knows,  ma'am  ;  I  don't,  I'm  sure." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  in  which  he  looked 
troubled,  as  a  man  does  who  knows  that  something  is 
expected  of  him,  which  he  has  not  the  grace  to  perform 
nor  the  courage  to  refuse. 

"Shall  I  advise  you?" 

"  If  you  please,  though  I  can't  promise  to  follow  it." 

"  She  is  not  implicated  in  this  dreadful  affair  before 
the  law,  is  she  ?" 

«  No." 

"  Then,  send  her  home,  Mr.  Harding,  to  her 
family." 

"  She  will  be  wanted  as  a  witness,  when  he  is  tried." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so.  But  do  not  set  your  heart  too 
much  on  his  punishment.  He  will  get  clear,  I  have  no 
doubt.  Nobody  is  punished  here  for  anything  they  do. 
But  I  advise  you  earnestly,  if  she  has  not  already 
means  to  return,  to  furnish  her  with  them — your  bro- 
ther had  money,  you  say — and,  as  soon  as  her  presence 
is  no  longer  necessary,  to  urge  her  going  back." 

"  I  will  never  speak  to  her !"  said  the  man,  dog- 
gedly. 

"  There  is  no  need  you  should.  It  would  be  pain- 
ful to  both  of  you.  But  be  a  man,  Mr.  Harding,  and  open 
the  way  to  self-redemption  to  her.  She  is  very  young, 
and  will  be,  in  all  true  senses,  helpless  and  friendless  in 
this  dreadful  country.  There  is  but  one  fate  before 
her,  with  the  difficulties  which  now  surround  her,  and 
that  is  such  as  one  shudders  to  think  of.  She  is  not 
yet  wholly  lost,  and  be  you  the  good  angel  to  her  fu- 
ture. Miss  "Warren  and  I  will  act  with  and  for  you ; 
and  ten  years  hence,  if  you  both  live,  and  she  should 
be  saved,  how  great  will  be  the  happiness  of  reflecting 
that  you  acted  nobly,  instead  of  revengefully,  and 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  335 

thereby  saved,  instead  of  driving  to  desperation,  a  poor, 
misguided  woman  !" 

"  I  believe,"  he  said,  acknowledging,  with  a  dan- 
gerous precipitancy,  her  influence,  "  that  you  could 
bring  me  to  do  anything." 

At  this  speech  they  both  colored,  and  Eleanore 
said,  hastily :  "  I  have  no  wish  or  thought  of  trying 
what  you  could  be  brought  to  do,  sir.  I  only  appeal  to 
you  in  this  matter  as  my  conscience  bids  me,  in  view  of 
the  ends  before  us,  and  as  I  would  to  any  stranger  so  re- 
lated to  an  unfortunate  and  helpless  woman.  "Will  you 
doit?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  or  Miss  Warren  must  explain  why, 
and  by  whose  advice.  I  don't  want  her  to  understand 
that  I  did  it  myself.  I  loved  my  brother  very  much, 
and  I  don't  forgive  her  his  death  " — tears  filling  his 
eyes — "  though  I  do  take  your  counsel  about  her." 

"  Miss  Warren  and  I,"  she  answered,  "  will  do 
whatever  is  possible  to  further  this  plan.  Let  us  know 
where  you  will  deposit  money  for  her,  and  I  will  send 
a  friend  of  ours  to  see  to  her  safe  embarkation  when 
the  time  comes." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  will  go,"  he  said,  "  if  this 
wretch  gets  clear;  and  if  she  doesn't,  I'd  kill  them 
both  if  they  touch  a  dollar  of  his.  It's  not  the  money, 
ma'am — but  I  would  burn  it,  or  sink  it  in  the  sea,  be- 
fore she  should  see  it,  if  she  goes  back  to  him !" 

"  Yes,  undoubtedly ;  you  could  not  contribute  to 
render  her  infamous ;  the  object  is  to  save  her ;  and  if 
that  cannot  be  done,  I  approve  your  feeling.  She  will 
have  to  go  elsewhere  to-day.  It  is  not  desirable  to 
Miss  Warren  or  me  that  she  should  stay  here  longer, 
for  reasons  which  need  not  be  named;  and  in  an  hour 
or  two,  we  will  let  you  know  how  you  can  serve  us  in 
disposing  her  in  some  proper  place." 


336  THE   IDEAL  ATTAINED. 

He  looked  at  her,  in  a  sort  of  helpless  astonishment 
at  finding  himself  thus  called  on  to  act  in  a  manner  so 
opposite  to  his  feelings,  but  went  out  without  speaking. 

"  We  must  arrange  for  her,"  said  Eleanore,  "  before 
the  funeral.  He  may  be  less  disposed  to  aid  us  after. 
.Now,  will  you  go  up,  dear,  and  tell  her  it  is  necessary 
she  should  remove  to-day,  and  ascertain  if  she  has 
money,  and  if  she  knows  of  any  place  to  go  ?" 

To  all  which  I  came  back  shortly  with  a  negative 
reply,  and  an  imploring  prayer  not  to  be  sent  away 
destitute,  among  strangers. 

"  The  Marsdens,"  said  Eleanore,  "  we  know  nobody 
else — shall  I  go  up  and  see  them  ?  I  thought  the  re- 
ports in  the  papers  would  have  brought  Mr.  M.  down 
before  this  time.  Are  not  they  the  best  people  to  con- 
sult «" 

"  I  think  so.     Only  pray  do  not  stay." 

"  You  may  be  assured  I  will  not,  Anna,  nor  rest, 
now,  anywhere,  till  this  poor  creature  is  safely  housed 
away  from  us. 

The  people  were  filling  the  streets  as  she  went 
out — a  few  on  their  way  to  church,  but  more  to  other 
places  of  quite  different  character.  In  a  few  minutes, 
to  my  great  satisfaction,  she  returned,  bringing  with 
her  Mr.  Marsden,  whom  she  had  fortunately  met  near 
our  house. 

The  story  was  told,  Mr.  Harding  called  into  coun- 
sel, and  it  was  settled,  finally,  that,  in  case  Mrs.  Mars- 
den  would  consent  to  receive  her,  they  should  signal 
us  from  their  upper  window,  by  putting  the  red  cur- 
tain outside,  as  they  had  more  than  once  before  done  ; 
and  if  she  did  not,  then  the  good  man  was  to  return  to 
us  for  further  consultation.  Mr.  Harding  agreed  to 
deposit  to  Mr.  Marsden's  order  money  to  pay  her  ex- 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  337 

penses  for  two  months,  and  her  passage  home  after  the 
trial  was  over,  which  it  was  thought  must  take  place 
in  that  time.  If  she  did  not  go,  he  said,  Mrs.  Bromfield 
and  I  might  draw  and  bestow  it  upon  any  needy  and 
deserving  person  we  should  find. 

When  they  left  us,  Eleanore  said  :  "  Now  I  will  go 
up  and  see  that  poor  soul,  and  if  she  is  ready,  bring  her 
down  here.  It  will  be  less  dreary  than  waiting  up 
there  alone.  And  I  owe  it  to  her  and  myself  to  atone, 
in  some  manner,  for  my  almost  harshness  last  night." 

"  Let  me  go,  Eleanore,"  said  I,  "  unless  you  partic- 
ularly wish  to.  She  may  have  some  packing  to  do, 
and  I  think  she  would  feel  freer  in  accepting  my  assist- 
ance, just  now,  than  yours." 

"  Yery  well,"  she  replied ;  "  only  do  not  stay  too 
long,  Anna.  I  must  have  a  few  minutes  with  her  be- 
fore she  goes,  and  I  feel  persuaded  Mrs.  Marsden  will 
receive  her." 

I  accordingly  soon  had  Mrs.  Harding  down  stairs, 
when  Eleanore  received  her  at  the  office-door  with 
some  tender  words  of  compassion  for  the  utter  misery 
written  in  her  face,  and  led  her  to  our  bedroom. 

"  Poor  child,"  she  said,  as  she  seated  her,  "  I  hope 
you  are  a  little  better  than  you  were  last  night.  I  spoke 
with  less  tenderness  to  you  then,  than  your  suffering 
called  for.  Forgive  me.  I  would  not  be  harsh,  but 
the  dreadful  consequences  of  your — delusion — appalled 
and  shocked  me  beyond  expression,  and  I  was  power- 
fully wrought  upon,  at  the  moment,  by  a  sense  of  our 
exposure,  through  it.  I  am  not  often  so  harsh,  and  I 
shall  feel  happier  if  you  tell  me  you  do  not  cherish  a 
recollection  of  my  ungraciousness." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Bromfield,"  she  replied,  speaking  with 
great  difficulty,  "do  not  say  so  many  kind  words! 
15 


338  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

They  hurt   me  worse   than  the  others!      Oh,   what 
would  my  poor  mother  say  ?     Oh,  what  can  I  do  ?" 

"  There  is  nothing  you  can  do,  child,  to  repair  the 
terrible  wrong  that  has  been  done,"  said  Eleanore ;  "  but 
in  the  time  to  come,  you  can  heal  some  of  your  own 
wounds,  by  doing  right.  It  is  not  so  bad  as  if  you  had. 
shared  the  fearful  deed." 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  I  never  thought  of  it,  though  I  was 
dreadfully  frightened  when  he  came ;  but  I  didn't  know 
that  Mr.  Gray  had  a  dagger,  and  I  never  thought  of 
their  hurting  each  other  worse  than  with  blows." 

"  But  now,"  said  Eleanore,  "  you  see  that  he  was 
a  bad  man,  who  went  prepared  for  the  dangers  he 
might  provoke." 

She  was  silent  for  some  moments,  and  at  last  fal- 
tered :  "  But,  Mrs.  Bromfield,  he  didn't  mean  to  do  it. 
He  said  so  afterward,  and  I  know  he  didn't." 

"  We  will  not  talk  now  of  what  he  meant,"  said 
Eleanore,  unwilling  to  hear  her  vindicate  the  mur- 
derer. "  We  are  making  arrangements  for  you  to  go 
to  a  quiet  house,  to  stop  till  the  trial  is  over — at  which, 
you  know,  you  will  be  required  to  give  your  testi- 
mony." 

"  I  don't  want  to,"  she  said,  choking,  and  looking 
with  such  piteous,  tearful  eyes  at  us.  "  I  can't." 

"  But  you  will  have  to,"  said  Eleanore ;  "  and  I  am 
afraid  you  may  be  put  in  prison  if  you  say  you  can't  to 
other  people.  Be  calm,  now,  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
let  me  tell  you  how  it  is." 

And  then  she  went  on  to  tell  her  all  that  per- 
tained to  the  case,  and  her  part  in  it,  avoiding  all 
expression  of  opinion  as  to  the  probable  results,  but 
assuring  her  that  it  was  in  every  respect  better  she 
should  not  shrink  from  what  was  demanded  of  her. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  339 

"  But  his  life,  Mrs.  Bromfield !"  said  the  girl,  with 
ashy  lips.  "  I  wouldn't  speak  against  his  life  for  all 
the  world." 

"  Poor  child  !"  said  Eleanore,  drawing  near  to  her 
and  taking  her  hand ;  "  poor  child !  Is  it  so,  then, 
that  you  love  this  wicked,  dreadful  man  ?  I  pity  you, 
indeed.  Do  you  not  see  that  it  can  only  be  wretched- 
ness and  shame  to  you,  and  every  one  that  cares  for 
you?" 

"  Nobody  will  care  for  me  now,"  she  replied,  "  and 
if  they  did,  I — I  could  not  go  away  from  him." 

Eleanore  turned  to  me  in  despair. 

"  You  should  remember,"  I  said,  "  that  he  has 
killed  your  husband." 

"  I  never  loved  him"  she  answered.  I  married 
him  because  my  father  and  sister  Elsie  wanted  me  to, 
and  I  didn't  know  any  better.  I  didn't  want  to  come 
here,  and  I  wouldn't,  if  they  hadn't  made  me." 

Eleanore  rose  and  walked  away,  deeply  pained  and 
disheartened.  I  took  her  seat,  and  with  all  the  elo- 
quence of  heart  and  tongue  that  I  possessed,  I  expostu- 
lated, entreated,  and  warned,  but  all  in  vain.  Nothing 
would  shake  her  loyalty  to  this  wretch ;  and  she  de- 
clared, at  length,  that  if  he  were  punished,  she  would 
share  his  punishment. 

Eleanore  was  walking  up  and  down  the  floor  as  she 
said  this,  and  turning  suddenly  to  her,  she  asked :  "  Do 
you  dream  of  the  awful  fate  before  you,  if  you  adhere 
to  him?  Have  you  any  idea  how  cruel  he  can  be — 
how  he  can  shame  and  torture  and  trample  on  you, 
by-and  by  ?  Did  you  ever  hear  anybody  describe  a 
devil  ?  and  do  you  know  that  a  fiend  would  be  merci- 
ful compared  to  what  this  man  will  be  to  you,  when  he 
is  ready  to  cease  lying  and  deceiving  you?  Did  you 


340  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

ever  hear  of  hell  ?  and  do  you  know  that  it  cannot,  at 
the  worst,  exceed  the  torments  you  will  suffer  in  the 
life  he  will  lead  you  to  ?  Imagine  your  good  mother 
here,  speaking  to  you,  Caroline,  and  do  not  answer  us, 
but  think  of  what  we  have  said.  It  is  time  you  were 
going  now,  to  the  house  where  you  will  have  a  home 
for  awhile.  They  are  excellent  persons,  both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Marsden,  and  they  have  consented  to  take  you  be- 
cause Miss  Warren  and  I  have  entreated  them  to,  that 
you  might  have  a  quiet  home,  among  good  and  virtuous 
people,  till  the  time  comes  when  you  can  see  more 
clearly  than  you  now  do.  I  hope  you  will  not  trouble 
or  grieve  Mrs.  Marsden,  who  will  be  gentle  with  you 
as  a  sister ;  and  when  all  is  over,  I  trust  you  will  con- 
clude to  go  back  to  your  father's  home.  If  you  do, 
there  will  be  money  for  you  to' go  with,  and  our  kind 
wishes  will  attend  you.  Antonio  shall  go  up  with  you 
— you  see,  Anna,  the  signal — and  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  hear  that  you  are  feeling  and  thinking  better,  after 
a  few  days.  Good-by  now." 

And  we  let  her  go  reluctantly,  feeling  as  if  she  were 
possibly  plunging  away  to  ruin  as  she  went. 


CHAPTEK  XLII. 

Eleanore  and  I  breathed  more  freely  as  we  watched 
her  walking  up  the  street,  and  at  last  she  said  :  "  It  is 
an  inestimable  thing,  is  it  not,  to  be  so  safely  and  hu- 
manely freed  of  her — poor  child !  But  I  have  little 
hope  of  her  future  well-doing,  Anna.  Not  that  I  think 
her  actually  base  or  depraved  now — but  her  strong 
affection  for  this  wretched  murderer  and  seducer  will 
carry  her  back  to  him,  I  fear,  in  spite  of  everything :  in 
which  case,  we  know  too  well  the  bitter  lot  before  her, 
She  will  be  degraded  in  her  own  esteem  by  that  fatal 
step ;  upon  this  will  shortly  follow  his  scorn  and  brutal 
abuse — and,  ah,  what  an  existence  will  be  hers  then !" 

"  She  seems  to  have  been  badly  treated  throughout, 
if  her  story  be  true — that  she  married  to  please  her 
father  and  sister,  and  came  here  to  please  them,  too, 
instead  of  following  her  own  attractions.  I  think  that 
is  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  universal  wrongs  which 
woman  suffers  or  does  against  herself,  Eleanore — that 
trading  in  marriage — giving  her  freedom  and  self-re- 
spect for  a  support  or  a  position,  or  feeling  constrained 
to  allow  herself  to  be  united  for  life  to  a  man  who  is 
chosen  for  any  reason  but  because,  of  all  the  world,  he 
comes  nearest  her  heart.  This  poor  child  already, 
young  as  she  is,  has  been  doomed,  by  that  sin  against 
herself,  to  immeasurable  horrors  and  suffering." 

"  She  is  one  of  thousands,  nay,  millions  of  our  sex, 


34:2  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

Anna,  scattered  over  all  the  globe,  against  whom  this 
fearful  wrong  is  daily  perpetrated,  in  the  names  of 
prosperity,  happiness,  and  love.  I  tremble  for  woman- 
hood when  I  think  how  constantly  it  is  outweighed  in 
the  balance  against  these  poor,  paltry  shams  and  lies, 
and,  going  blindly  into  the  balance,  comes  out,  after  a 
season,  with  eyes  full  open  to  its  dreadful  lot,  strug- 
gling in  vain  against  the  fetters  that  have  been  thrown 
around  it,  and  bleeding  at  every  pore.  It  is  fearful  to 
consider  what  burdens  we  assume  in  the  blindness  of 
our  ignorance,  and  have  to  bear  through  all  our  subse- 
quent life,  or  to  throw  off  with  an  effort  greater,  even, 
than  our  endurance.  Consider  for  a  moment  how  so- 
ciety treats  a  woman,  who,  knowing  in  her  soul  that 
she  is  shamed  and  tortured  in  her  marriage,  seeks  to 
cast  the  yoke  that  becomes  at  last  intolerable ;  and 
consider  how  men,  high  and  low,  from  honorable 
Seignors  to  such  miscreants  as  this,  do  almost  ever  re- 
gard one  who  takes  such  a  position.  Forgetting  that 
Nature  speaks  in  her  bosom,  as  well  as  their  own — for- 
getting that  a  slavery  which  they  would  loathe  them- 
selves for  submitting  to,  may  be  as  galling  to  her — 
forgetting  that  her  soul,  too,  must  grow,  if  at  all,  in 
freedom  like  theirs,  how  coolly  and  cruelly  worldly  men 
and  happy  women  can  set  down  such  to  neglect  and 
coldness  and  scorn  !  They  have,  in  the  judgment  of 
society,  committed  the  unpardonable  sin  in  asserting 
their  self-respect,  and  they  become,  in  consequence,  fair 
targets  for  the  sneers  and  the  arrows  of  every  heartless 
or  scoundrel  marksman  who  chooses  to  entertain  him- 
self at  their  expense. 

"  But  do  not  ask  me  to  say  what  I  feel  toward  men 
who  are  capable  of  the  baseness  of  deliberately  casting 
a  woman  out  of  the  citadel  of  her  social  relations.  ISTo 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  843 

language  which  I  could  use  would  convey  an  idea  of 
the  execration  in  which  I  hold  such,  and  the  monster 
we  call  Society,  when  I  see  it  smiling  on  them.  If  I 
thought  my  son  could  ever  grow  to  a  manhood  so  base 
as  would  let  him  deliberately  set  about  winning  a  wo- 
man's love,  careless  whether  it  might  be  shame  or  glory 
to  her,  I  could  rejoice  to  see  him  buried  a  child.  The 
highwayman  or  burglar  is  noble  in  comparison  with 
such  !  And  yet  there  is  no  punishment  or  hindrance 
for  these  men,  if  they  stop  short  of  murder.  In  other 
countries  than  this  the  law  would  hang  this  creature 
for  stabbing  a  man,  but  would  scarce  lay  its  finger 
upon  him  for  the  greater  crime  of  destroying  the  poor 
girl.  In  England,  if  he  were  rich,  he  would  be  made 
to  pay  a  price  for  the  chattel  he  robbed  the  husband  of, 
but  everywhere  society,  with  very  scanty  excep- 
tions, would  open  as  wide  its  arms  to  him  after,  as 
before  the  deed.  Few  fathers  and  mothers  would 
hesitate  to  invite  him,  for  their  sons  to  emulate  and 
their  daughters  to  admire. 

"It  is  the  crying  sin  of  our  civilization — this  against 
the  love  of  woman.  It  hurls  yearly  into  the  dark  ranks 
of  the  irredeemable,  hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  of  the 
best  natures  of  our  sex.  Love  is  a  woman's  life  and 
nobleness.  Humble  intellects,  penetrated  and  vivified 
by  a  pure  and  self-respecting  affection,  are  often  the 
most  beautiful  and  harmonious  spirits  in  the  circles 
where  they  belong.  Women  are  called  angels,  and 
there  is  a  truth  at  the  root  of  that  hyperbole,  as  of  all 
others,  for  there  is  nothing  nearer  to  our  conception  of 
the  angelic  than  a  loving,  tender-souled  woman.  To 
draw  her  down  to  shame  through  this  high  attribute 
of  her  nature,  is  a  treachery  so  base  and  damnable, 
that  one  continually  wonders  why  the  ages  have  not 


344  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

stamped  it  as  the  one  ineffaceable  infamy  of  a  man's 
life  !» 

"  That  is  a  question  I  have  often  considered,"  said  I. 
"  Why  is  it  true  that  all  you  say  may  be,  and  is  contin- 
ually done,  in  all  the  countries  of  Christendom,  and  of 
the  whole  earth,  for  aught  I  know — an  enormous  and 
recognized  sin — without  any  human  penalty  attached 
to  it,  or  any  that  is  worth  so  naming  ?" 

"Because,"  she  said,  "society  proceeds  upon  two 
opposite  assumptions  in  regard  to  woman — one,  that 
she  is  inferior  to  man,  and  the  other,  that  she  is  supe- 
rior to  him.  Both  are  true,  too  ;  but  the  inferiority—- 
which is  in  the  personal  and  lower  life,  and  which  will 
ultimately  constitute  her  highest  appeal  to  his  nobility 
of  soul — has  been,  and,  alas !  still  is,  the  universal  ap- 
peal to  his  perverted  and  degrading  selfishness  ;  while 
the  eminence  that  he  concedes  to  her  in  love  and  the 
whole  affection al  nature,  is  the  theme  of  his  poetry  and 
the  unsuspecting  minister  to  his  baseness. 

"  I  do  believe,  though,  Anna,  that  this  wrong  has 
had  its  day.  I  believe  that  women  are  receiving  pre- 
paration for  a  clearer  and  truer  development,  and  that 
shame  will  not  henceforth  be  the  fruit  of  their  highest 
life  to  so  many  thousands  of  women." 

"  I  would  hope  so,"  was  my  slow  response ;  "  but 
I  confess  I  see  no  very  decisive  indications  of  that  good 
time." 

"  Day  does  not  dawn  in  a  moment,"  she  replied.  "  If 
ever  you  have  watched  the  eastern  sky  in  the  hour  when 
night  was  folding  his  dark  pinions  in  the  west,  you  have 
rather  accepted  the  approach  of  light  as  an  un demon- 
strated than  a  visible  fact,  so  faint  were  its  first  ad- 
vances. By-and-by  came  manifest  gleams,  shooting 
hither  and  thither ;  afterward  palpable  bars  of  illumiua- 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  345 

tion,  which  spread  into  a  radiant  whole  at  last,  and  the 
day  was  inaugurated.  Our  horizon  has  as  yet  only 
gleams  of  the  coming  time,  but  they  are,  I  think,  un- 
mistakable, and  whoever  lives  to  see  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury ushered  in,  will,  I  believe,  find  our  sex  on  a 
vantage-ground  of  true  freedom  and  self-sustaining  de- 
velopment, which  will  prove  the  first  step  in  such  a 
social  revolution  as  time  has  never  yet  seen. 

"  I  feel  a  prophetic  fire  warming  me,  Anna,  when 
I  think  of  the  future  of  woman.  I  am  so  entirely  con- 
vinced of  her  superiority  in  the  scale  of  being,  and 
that,  with  the  gentleness,  piety,  and  love,  winch  char- 
acterize her  more  angelic  nature,  she  is  to  lead  in  the 
civilization  of  the  coming  ages,  that  iny  hope  of  her 
era  is  boundless." 

"  Do  you,  indeed,  receive  that  extraordinary  doc- 
trine, Eleanore  ?  I  should  scarcely  have  suspected  you 
of  it.  To  my  judgment,  it  seems  to  belong  to  minds 
of  less  reason  and  greater  capacity  of  fanatical  warmth 
than  I  have  attributed  to  you." 

"  That  is  because  you  misconceive  the  truth  of  it 
and  its  relations.  It  rests  upon  irrefutable  proofs,  both 
material  and  spiritual,  which  we  have  not  time  to  con- 
sider now,  for  they  are  linked  in  a  beautiful  chain, 
which  may  be  touched  in  every  backward  era,  from 
this  day  to  the  creation,  and  the  truth  itself,  coming 
to  us,  now  is  —  contradictory  as  it  may  appear  to 
superficial  observation — the  chief  element  in  solving 
and  harmonizing  the  mystery  and  discord  of  the  past. 
It  enables  me  to  understand,  better  than  ever  before, 
the  hard  and  bloody  features  of  strife,  revenge,  and 
violence,  which  have  come  out  upon,  and  made  appa- 
rently hideous,  the  human  career.  The  first  ages  of 
Progress  were  necessarily  material ;  they  were  inevita- 
15* 


346  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

bly  man's — man's,  as  distinguished  from  woman,  I 
mean :  lie  being  the  material  worker — the  inventor, 
the  discoverer,  and  the  warrior ;  disposed  in  his  na- 
ture, and  well  able  by  his  strong  body  to  carry  his 
conquests  into  every  kingdom  where  they  were  needed. 
In  all  this  our  sex  was  undeniably  secondary  and  in- 
ferior ;  and  if  human  progress  were  to  be  an  endless 
succession  of  physical  labors,  inventions,  discoveries, 
and  wars,  we  should  be  doomed  to  remain  so.  But 
it  is  not ;  and  whenever,  by  man's  work  on  those 
planes,  the  race  shall  have  reached  a  condition  in 
which  higher  and  gentler  and  more  divine  dominations 
are  needed,  these  being  woman's,  she  will  come  natu- 
rally and  harmoniously  to  exercise  them.  And  they 
will  be  more  catholic  and  potent  than  man's  have  been, 
in  so  far  as  spirit  is  more  diffused  than  matter,  and 
love  more  irresistible  than  war." 

"  You  do  not  claim,  then,  that  women  are  superior 
logicians  or  more  powerful  reasoners  than  men  ?" 

"  No ;  but  reason  is  not  the  most  divine  attribute 
of  humanity,  nor  is  logical  power  its  most  godlike  de- 
velopment. Neither  of  these  was  the  distinguishing 
trait  of  the  divine  Nazarene.  Nor  do  I  mean  that  they 
are  superior  in  the  executive  capacities ;  nor  merely  in 
the  intuitions,  which  men,  however  jealous  of  their 
sovereignty,  universally  concede  to  us;  but  I  mean 
greater  elevation  in  the  scale  of  being — higher  offices, 
and  relations  of  greater  power  to  the  life  which  flows 
from  and  surrounds  our  own." 

"  Something — an  inference,  if  not  a  conclusion — in 
favor  of  your  argument,"  said  I,  "  it  seems  to  me, 
might  be  drawn  from  the  state  of  things  we  see  here — 
the  swift  and  fearful  degeneracy  of  these  men,  sepa- 
rated from  the  conservative  and  refining  influence  of 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  347 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  quickly,  "  for  no  one  believes 
that  women  of  the  same  rank  would  fall  thus,  under 
like  circumstances.  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  Anna, 
that  we  praise  a  strong,  rugged  man,  when  we  say 
earnestly  and  feelingly  of  him,  that  he  is  like  a  woman, 
or  is  womanly  in  his  nature  ?  We  express,  by  the  words, 
a  noble  manhood,  with  a  woman's  tenderness  or  love 
or  endurance  added  thereto ;  but  when  it  is  said  of  a 
woman  that  she  is  manly,  or  like  a  man,  how  one's 
heart  recoils !  This,  I  think,  is  because  we  feel  delight 
in  seeing  the  higher  embodied  in  the  lower:  but  it 
pains  us  to  see  that  the  truest  verdict  we  can  pro- 
nounce upon  the  higher,  is,  that  it  is  like  the  lower." 

"  Yet,  Eleanore,"  said  I,  a  little  startled  by  what 
her  statements  would  lead  to,  "  there  certainly  are  very 
few  women  who  are,  in  elevation  of  life,  in  earnestness, 
and  in  the  expression,  either  by  deeds  or  words  of  the 
loftier  sentiments,  comparable  to  great  numbers  of 
men.  You  must  acknowledge  that,  I  am  sure." 

"  Yes,  with  pain  and  grief;  but  it  does  not  hurt  my 
argument,  because  woman  has  not  been  acknowledged 
or  proved  in  the  position  I  claim  for  her.  She  has 
been  always  the  slave  of  man — more  or  less  ab- 
ject, according  to  his  condition,  but  ever  the  slave ; 
permitted  this  liberty  and  denied  the  other ;  educated 
by  his  prejudices — warped  and  belittled  by  his  igno- 
rance :  not  criminally  or  cruelly  on  his  part,  but  in- 
evitably, because  of  his  ignorance  and  darkness — he 
the  active  and  she  the  passive  agent  of  her  own  feeble- 
ness and  degradation." 

"  And  what,"  I  asked,  "  is  to  make  their  relation 
different,  now  ?" 

"  The  light  that  has  come  into  the  world,  Anna," 
replied  my  friend,  "  and  that  which  is  coming.  We 


348  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

have  heretofore  bowed  to  man's  sovereignty  because 
physical  power  has  been  the  proof  of  superiority,  and 
he  has  had  the  bone  and  muscle  to  assert  and  defend 
this  for  himself;  while  we  have  scarcely  inquired 
whether  it  was  the  highest  evidence  of  his  claim,  or 
whether  the  progress  for  which  we  hope  could  be  the 
fruit  of  such  rule  so  maintained.  Man,  first,  laying 
the  material  substrata  of  life — woman,  last,  uprearing 
on  these  solid  foundations  of  reason,  science,  and  sys- 
tem, the  beautiful  ideals  where  truth  and  love  shall 
dwell  in  religious  harmony  with  us." 

"  Your  ideas  would  meet  with  little  welcome," 
said  I,  "  in  the  world  of  men,  or  of  women,  either,  I 
fear." 

"  But  that  would  be  no  proof  of  their  unsoundness, 
Miss  "Warren.  There  will  be  a  certain  displeasure  to- 
ward them  at  first,  I  have  no  doubt,  because  a  prepos- 
terous notion  is  entertained,  since  this  question  has 
arisen,  that,  whichever  sex  shall  prevail  in  the  war,  the 
other  must  be  humiliated  by  its  victory.  We  have 
been  wronged  and  injured  by  the  supremacy  of  man, 
and  he  naturally  distrusts  us.  He  has  not  learned  that 
they  who  are  superior  in  truth,  in  love,  and  in  real 
elevation,  cannot  enslave  inferiors ;  as  a  man's  best 
powers  cannot  enslave  his  baser  appetites.  But  setting 
all  minor  considerations  aside,  see  how  much  more  the 
female  principle  is  to  all  life,  than  the  male.  The  re- 
lation and  power  of  the  one  is  momentary  and  undig- 
nified by  any  lofty  sense  of  use  and  patient  service  to 
the  coming  being.  Throughout  the  organic  world,  re- 
production, which  is  the  highest  function  of  life,  is  the 
paramount  law  and  service  of  the  maternal  principle. 
Beauty,  which  is  the  highest  material  expression  of 
life,  is  generally  its  concomitant ;  and  organic  nurture 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  349 

and  development,  which  stand  next  to  God's  power  in 
creating,  are  its  chief  employment  and  grandest  hap- 
piness. The  mother-bee  produces  all  the  innumerable 
young,  and  the  drones  perish  when  their  very  tempo- 
rary office  has  been  filled.  The  mother-bird  rejoices 
through  her  long  incubation  in  the  happiness  which  is 
to  come ;  and  if  her  mate  sings  a  sweeter  song  than 
she  does,  is  it  not  that,  by  that  lower  performance,  he 
may  cheer  and  lighten  her  sacred  one  ?" 

"  That  is  quite  a  new,  and  not  flattering  view,"  said 
I,  laughing,  "  of  Cock  Robin  and  Bob-o  link's  sweet 
gifts." 

"  But  it  is  a  true  one,  Anna,  I  am  sure,"  answered 
iny  friend,  with  undisturbed  seriousness.  "  The  highest 
instinct  of  all  unprogressive  life,  it  seems  to  me,  is  to 
preserve  to  itself  the  perfection  which  God  has  given 
it.  The  loftiest  purpose  that  progressive  life  can  enter- 
tain, lies  beyond  this :  and  both  are  intrusted  to  the 
mother.  The  father  comes  nearest  to  her  power,  and 
most  entirely  seconds  it,  when,  by  careful  tendance 
upon  her,  he  sustains  in  all  her  life,  interior  and  exte- 
rior, the  fullest  vigor  and  most  harmonious  play  ;  when 
he  gives  her  conditions  of  health,  freedom,  and  self- 
respect;  surrounds  her  with  the  beautiful,  the  pure, 
and  the  noble  ;  and,  by  his  superior  strength  and  intel- 
lect, commands  the  world  for  this  creating  mother,  of 
whom  he  is  the  care-taker.  Thus  his  position  is 
secondary  and  ministrant  to  hers,  which  comes  first 
after  God's.  I  believe  in  this  superiority  of  my  sex, 
Anna,  everywhere,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest. 
Do  not  you  ?" 

"  Certainly,  dear  Eleanore.  It  cannot,  I  think,  be 
disputed  ;  but  it  is  not  often  that  one  gets  back  of  the 
conventionalities  and  errors  of  the  ages,  to  take  a  clear 


350  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

view  from  Nature's  standpoint.  In  all  the  vexed  and 
stinging  discussion  one  hears  and  participates  in.  we 
are  too  apt  to  stop  at  our  own  door,  or  not  to  look  be- 
yond our  grandmother's  usages,  into  the  past.  It 
seems  to  me  that  no  man  or  woman  would  reject  this 
interpretation  of  God's  purposes  in  regard  to  the  sexes. 
It  is  too  evidently  true." 

"  Yet,  dear,  there  is  no  practical  adoption  of  it  any- 
where. If  there  were,  all  the  freedom  that  their  na- 
ture could  use,  would  be  at  once  accorded  by  all  rational 
men,  to  women.  They  would  not  fear  to  remove  re- 
strictive laws  from  their  statute-books  ;  on  the  contrary, 
they  would  become  sensible  of  the  wrong  of  ever  hav- 
ing placed  them  there,  and  they  would  hasten  to  re- 
pair, by  their  just  recognition  of  it,  the  injuries  which  the 
sex  and  society  have  both  sustained  in  the  ages  that 
are  past.  The  proudest  achievements  of  man,  in  art, 
in  statesmanship,  in  science,  in  discovery,  in  invention 
— in  all  that  proclaims  his  civilization — can  minister  to 
no  higher  purpose  in  this  life,  surely,  than  this  one 
of  developing  and  elevating  woman  to  true  and  right 
conditions  for  maternity.  The  noblest  woman,  in  all 
senses,  is  the  best  mother ;  as  the  noblest  man  is  the 
best  father,  and  the  universe  contains  no  legacy  equal 
to  that  which  such  parents  give  to  their  children." 
"  But  all  women  are  not  mothers,  Eleanore." 
"  I  know  and  lament  that,  dear  friend  ;  but  the  fact 
makes  no  weight  against  the  argument.  It  strengthens 
it,  rather — for  the  woman  to  whom  the  power  and  joy 
of  motherhood  are  denied,  is,  if  possible,  the  more 
entitled  thereby  to  all  else  that  life  can  give  her.  Its 
richest  riches,  exclusive  of  this,  can  only  mitigate  that 
unfortunate  lot.  Is  it  not  so,  dear  ?  Would  any  ad- 
vantage which  you  could  reap  in  strife  with  the  world— 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  351 

any  fortune,  power,  or  distinction,  still  the  demands  of 
you  heart  ?  Dear  Anna,  I  know  how  large  a  woman- 
soul  there  is  pent  up  in  this  slender  form,  and  I  know 
how  bitterly  it  suffers  in  this  perpetual  denial  of  its 
strongest  instinct.  But  you  do  not  the  less  demand  all 
that  I  could  enjoy  or  appropriate  nobly  in  the  exercise 
of  motherhood.  Because  one  calamity  has  fallen  on 
you,  I  would  not  condemn  you  to  all  others — to  a 
withered,  narrow  life,  cut  off  from  the  sympathies, 
uses,  and  respects,  to  which  all  pure  life  is  entitled. 
You  call  yourself  an  '  old  maid  ;'  but  if  women  enjoyed 
the  freedom  and  recognition  I  ask  for  them,  there 
would  be  none  or  few  such ;  and  they,  if  good,  would 
be  objects  of  strong  sympathy  and  earnest  respect,  in- 
stead of  such  feelings  as  are  commonly  entertained  to- 
ward them. 

"  But  I  have  talked  you  to  tears,  and  we  will  say 
no  more  to-day  on  these  subjects." 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

That  day  completed  our  second  month,  and  Elea- 
nore,  in  the  evening,  told  me  she  was  unwilling  to 
commence  on  another,  if  we  could  see  any  quieter  way 
of  earning  a  livelihood.  "  I  have  been  watching  the 
papers  lately,  Anna,"  said  she,  "for  anything  that 
might  offer  a  better  position  to  us ;  and  though  I  have 
not  found  it  for  both,  I  have  faith  to  believe  that  it  may 
come  by-and-by." 

"  For  both !"  I  said  ;  "  have  you,  then,  seen  some- 
thing that  would  do  for  yourself?" 

"  No,  dear,  but  for  you,  in  to-day's  Alta.  Here  it 
is,  and  if  you  think  of  it,  you  had  better  answer  to- 
morrow morning." 

It  was  an  advertisement  for  a  teacher  in  Stockton. 
Applicants  would  get  further  information  by  applying 
at  that  office. 

"  And  if  I  should  go,"  said  I,  "  what  would 
you  do?" 

"  I  would  get  a  situation  as  governess,  if  I  could — 
perhaps  in  some  Spanish  family."  Her  eyes  filled  as 
she  spoke,  but  she  brushed  the  tears  indignantly  away, 
and  said  :  "  I  am  not  so  weak  as  this  makes  me  seem, 
but  I  cannot  think  of  our  separating,  dear  friend,  with- 
out pain,  and  almost  dismay." 

"  Nor  I ;  and  we  will  not.  Something  will  come, 
if  we  are  only  a  little  patient.  Let  us  remain  where 
we  are  yet  a  few  days,  and  be  watchful." 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  353 

"  I  told  young  Peters,"  said  Eleanore,  "  this  morn- 
ing, that  I  did  not  think  we  should,  either  of  us,  wish 
to  stay  longer  than  till  they  could  supply  our  places. 
You  know  we  felt  alike  about  it  yesterday  evening, 
Anna." 

"  Yes,  and  I  feel  so  still ;  but  I  am  loth  to  look  for 
an  employment  that  will  separate  us  at  once,  and  leave 
you  idle.  I  almost  feel  you  could  not  do  so  well  with- 
out me." 

"And  you  are  right,  my  dear,  good  sister ;  I  could 
not ;  but  I  must  not  hinder  your  prosperity.  Go  in 
the  morning,  and  see  what  you  can  learn  about  this 
place.  Perhaps  you  could  engage  it,  and  yet  have  a 
week  or  a  fortnight  here ;  in  which  case,  we  could  re- 
main a  little  longer  without  inconvenience.  If  it 
is  a  situation  where  you  can  be  well  paid  for  the  labor 
you  ought  to  be  doing,  instead  of  this  drudgery,  I 
could  not  be  content  to  have  you  lose  it  for  my  sake." 

So  it  was  agreed,  with  a  good  many  sad  words,  that 
we  should,  the  next  day,  begin  to  take  steps  looking 
toward  a  separation-  of  our  ways. 

In  the  morning,  Mr.  John  Harding  came  to  settle 
his  account,  and  have  some  further  conversation  re- 
specting Caroline.  Eleanore  told  him  that  she  had 
gone  to  the  Marsdens,  who  would  be  prudent  and  kind 
in  their  dealing  with  her,  and  that  she  hoped  a  few 
weeks'  quiet,  under  the  pure  and  friendly  influence  of 
Mrs.  Marsden,  would  restore  her  to  her  right  mind, 
and  prepare  her  to  return  to  her  friends  at  home. 

He  was  of  the  opposite  opinion,  however,  but  made 
no  warm  argument  about  it. 

Eleanore  requested  him  to  deposit  the  money  he 
had  promised  for  her  service,  to  the  account  of  Mr. 
Marsden,  or  some  other  person  whom  he  might  prefer, 


354:  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

as  there  was  a  probability  she  and  I  might  both  be 
elsewhere  before  it  would  be  drawn. 

"  Are  you  going  away,  then  ?"  he  asked. 

"  We  do  not  expect  to  remain  here  much  longer," 
was  her  reply. 

"  Going  to  the  country  ?" 

"  Perhaps  so.  We  are  not  fully  decided  yet.  In 
any  case,  it  might  be  a  serious  inconvenience  to  either 
of  us  to  feel  any  further  responsibility  in  this  matter. 
All  that  we  can  do  in  a  friendly  way  for  the  poor  girl, 
we  will ;  but  the  business  part  can  be  better  attended 
to  by  some  one  who  is  settled  here.  I  hope  you  will 
not  abandon  the  good  you  purposed  toward  her,"  said 
Eleanore,  seeing  his  countenance  change,  "  in  conse- 
quence of  this  necessity." 

"  JSTo ;  I  promised  yon  she  should  have  the  money, 
and  so  she  shall — to  go  home  with,  if  she  wants  to. 
But  she  won't  do  it ;  you  will  see  that  she  won't." 

"  That  is  possible,"  said  Eleanore  ;  "  but  you  will 
always  have  the  satisfaction  of  reflecting  that,  so  far, 
you  acted  right." 

"  So  far !"  he  echoed.  "  Isn't  that  enough  ?  What 
else  could  I  do  ?" 

"  You  could  see  her,  Mr.  Harding,  and  by  a  little 
gentleness  of  speech  and  manner,  mitigate  the  pain  and 
horror  under  which  she  now  labors.  You,  more  than 
any  one  here,  could  make  her  feel  that  she  is  not  for- 
ever separated  from  all  hope  in  those  who  have  hither- 
to made  her  world.  You  could  make  her  respect  your 
nobleness,  and  lead  her  to  think  of  some  other  refuge 
than  among  the  guilty  and  outcast,  to  whom,  I  fear, 
her  weakness  now  inclines  her." 

He  heard  her  with  silent  amazement.  "Really, 
ma'am,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  when  she  had  ceased 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  355 

speaking,  "  you  surprise  me.  I  should  not  have  ex- 
pected anybody  to  speak  so  to  me  about  her.  She 
ought,  I  think,  to  ask  my  forgiveness." 

"  She  hasn't  the  courage,"  said  Eleanore,  quickly. 
"  She  is  a  child,  overwhelmed  and  crushed  by  horrors 
she  never  before  dreamed  of,  but  which,  if  she  is  not 
very  tenderly  cared  for,  she  may  grow  familiar  with  in 
the  years  to  come.  If  you  will  permit  me  to  advise 
you  a  little,  sir,  1  would  urge  you  to  go  to  her  and 
make  her  feel,  that,  though  she  has  done  very  wrong, 
she  is  not  a  monster,  and  that  return  to  the  path  she 
has  left  is  yet  possible.  You  should  remember,  Mr. 
Harding,  that  the  great  guilt  here  is  a  man's  ;  I  mean 
the  first  guilt — not  that  alone  which  struck  the  mur- 
derous blow — and  that  this  young  creature  was  thrown, 
by  the  injndiciousness  of  your  brother  and  her  friends, 
unguarded,  into  his  power.  If  I  could  be  utterly  un- 
relenting toward  any  human  being,  it  would  be  such 
a  monster  as  he  is,  but  not  his  victim." 

Mr.  Harding  rose,  and  took  a  turn  across  the  office. 
Then  he  stopped  at  the  window,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  looked  out.  At  last  he  turned,  and  walk- 
ing up  to  the  desk,  where  Eleanore  was  engaged  in 
making  up  the  accounts,  that  should  have  been  finished 
on  Saturday  evening,  said,  with  his  face  slightly  flushed 
and  confused :  "  I  will  go,  Mrs.  Bromfield,  because  you 
make  me  feel  that  I  must.  Nobody  else  could,  though. 
Where  is  the  house  she  has  gone  to  ?" 

She  gave  him  the  direction,  and  said :  "  Inquire, 
when  you  get  in  the  neighborhood,  for  Mr.  Marsden's 
house.  Anybody  there  will  show  it  you.  And,  pray, 
say  some  kind  word  to  Caroline  for  me." 

"And  tell  her,"  I  added,  "that,  if  it  is  possible,  I 
will  come  up  and  see  her  to-day  or  to-morrow." 


356  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

u  There,"  said  Eleanore,  after  he  was  gone,  "  that 
is  something  gained  for  him,  if  it  does  not  save  her — 
of  which,  I  think,  there  may  yet  be  a  hope.  She 
naturally  thinks  of  this  miscreant,  should  he  escape,  as 
her  only  refuge  and  protection.  This  visit  may  draw 
her  thoughts  in  another  direction,  and,  with  the  helps 
she  will  otherwise  get,  may  lead  her  to  see  the  future 
more  truly  than  she  does  now,  and  to  appreciate  more 
correctly  her  relation  to  persons.  Now,  dear  Anna,  I 
must  send  you  off,  for  you  must  not  fail  to  see  what 
they  want  in  Stockton — and  get  a  little  time  to  stay 
with  me,  if  you  can.  Mr.  Peters  will  be  here  by  noon, 
his  brother  thinks.  I  shall  speak  to  him  at  once,  and 
then  I  shall  feel  free  to  go  also,  in  search  of  other  em- 
ployment." 

By  a  rare  coincidence,  I  met  at  the  office  of  the 
newspaper  the  person  who  had  inserted  the  advertise- 
ment. We  had  a  talk,  which  seemed  quite  satisfactory 
to  him,  and  was  entirely  so  to  me,  and  I  engaged  to 
commence  my  school  a  fortnight  from  that  day.  I  would 
not  say  less,  though  he  urged  it,  because  I  would  not 
risk  the  necessity  of  leaving  Eleanore,  until  there  had 
been  time  to  look  about  for  her  settlement.  As  it  was, 
I  returned  very  heavy-hearted,  thinking  of  her,  and 
not  at  all  of  myself.  She  was  very  much  pleased  when 
I  told  her  what  I  had  done,  and  we  began  at  once  to 
make  the  most  of  the  time  that  was  left  us,  by  can- 
vassing the  possibilities  of  the  future  and  reviewing  the 
past. 

When  Mr.  Harding  came  in  the  afternoon  to  take 
his  leave,  he  expressed  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  both 
of  us,  with  thanks  for  our  kindness — especially  Elea- 
nore's — in  having  shown  him  what  he  ought  to  do.  His 
visit  to  Caroline  had  made  him  a  happier  man.  She  was 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  357 

very  grateful  for  it,  and  Mr.  Marsden  had  promised  to 
write  him  sometimes  how  she  went  on,  till  the  trial, 
when  he  should  be  in  the  city  himself,  and  hope  to  see 
us  again.  He  parted  from  Eleanore  very  reluctantly, 
and  lingered  till  the  last  moment  for  reaching  the 
wharf,  in  hope,  as  I  saw,  of  an  opportunity  to  speak 
to  her  alone.  But  her  eye  kept  me  there.  She 
did  not  look  at  me  once  in  a  noticeable  way,  but  I 
could  not  go  out  of  the  room  till  he  was  gone. 

"  There  is  a  good  deal  of  latent  nobility  in  that 
soul,"  said  Eleanore ;  "  pity  some  congenial  and  more 
developed  one  should  not  cultivate  and  educe  it." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  think  he  would  be  quite 
willing  to  put  himself  in  certain  hands,  that  would  do 
it  efficiently." 

"  May  be,"  she  said,  "  but  do  not  speak  of  it.  I  am 
weary  of  such  experiences  here,  and  of  the  thoughts 
they  bring  to  me.  They  make  common  the  most 
sacred  things  of  life." 


CHAPTEK    XLIY. 

Time  went  on,  and  the  first  week  of  my  grace  was 
gone,  but  not  so  were  we.  It  was  difficult,  Mr.  Peters 
said,  to  find  women  whom  he  could  trust  to  manage 
everything  as  we  had,  and  almost  every  night  there 
was  a  petition  for  us  to  remain  ;  or,  if  I  must  go,  then 
for  Eleanore  to  stop,  and  have  a  servant- woman,  of  her 
own  choosing,  or  a  boy  or  man — black  or  white — 
Kanaka  or  Chinaman — anything  that  would  answer 
best  or  please  her,  only  if  she  would  stay  and  manage 
and  take  care  of  the  house.  At  last  the  urgency  so  far 
prevailed,  that  she  consented,  if  he  could  not  supply 
her  place,  to  remain  till  the  end  of  the  third  month, 
having  with  her  the  woman  whom  we  had  occasionally 
employed.  And  so,  on  Friday  of  the  second  week,  I 
left  her,  to  go  to  my  future  home.  Thus  I  lost  much 
of  her  daily  experience. 

But  I  have  her  letters,  written  at  intervals  of  a  few 
days  or  hours,  according  to  the  necessities  of  her  soul, 
— narrating  events,  or  breathing  her  beautiful  fancies, 
or  rising  in  fearless  affirmation :  the  moment's  mood 
being  as  faithfully  reflected  in  them,  as  in  her  varying 
face  it  always  was.  There  were  greater  extremes  in 
her  nature  than  I  ever  knew  in  any  other.  She  was 
frank  to  a  daring  degree ;  habitually  and  constantly 
so,  except  in  the  great  inmost  experiences  of  joy  and 
suffering ;  and  these,  when  she  willed  it,  could  be 
buried  so  deep  within,  that  those  of  her  household 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  359 

would  never  conceive  their  presence ;  and  even  I  found 
myself  often  forgetting  them.  She  was  courageous,  as 
you  have  seen  ;  when  need  and  occasion  were,  as  un- 
flinching in  thought  and  nerve  as  the  hardiest  man. 
Unfaltering  and  fearless,  she  pressed  impetuously  for- 
ward to  her  object ;  yet  laid  her  hand  as  gently  upon 
it,  when  she  reached  it,  as  the  most  delicate  and  sensi- 
tive girl.  Her  heart  was  a  full  fountain  of  the  tender- 
est  and  most  ecstatic  love,  yet  with  the  firmness  and 
apparent  coldness  of  the  least  womanly  woman,  she 
pressed  down  and  sealed  it  within  her  own  bosom. 
Shallow  people  thought  her  hard  and  cold,  when  the 
inward  fire  of  that  life,  smothered  and  checked  by  the 
strong  will,  would  have  blinded  and  scorched  their 
weak  souls,  had  it  been  permitted  to  blaze  forth.  Her 
letters  seemed  to  make  me  even  better  acquainted  with 
her  than  I  had  been.  They  showed  me  no  new  phase 
of  the  character  I  had  seen  so  fully  and  variously 
proved,  but  they  defined  it  more  sharply  ;  they  indi- 
vidualized more  perfectly  the  admirable  harmonies  and 
contrasts  which  made  her  the  rarest  woman  I  have  ever 
known. 

I  had  left  her  but  a  few  days — less  than  two  weeks, 
I  think — when  the  ever-dreaded  calamity  of  that 
anomalous  city,  fire,  descended  upon  them  one  night, 
and  swept  the  house  and  most  of  its  contents  to  de- 
struction. Her  loss  was  heavy,  consisting  not  only  of 
the  best  part  of  her  wardrobe,  but  of  all  the  precious 
mementoes  she  had  preserved  of  little  Harry. 

"  I  am  deeply  grieved,  Anna,"  she  says,  in  this  let- 
ter, "  for  their  loss.  It  seems  a  wrong  to  the  dear 
child  not  to  have  thought  first  of  what  remained  to 
prove  his  short  life  to  us  ;  but  I  was  terrified  for  Phil 
and  myself,  for  you  can  have  no  idea  of  the  fearful 


360  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

rapidity  of  this  destruction.  The  fire  broke  out  two 
buildings  from  us,  in  the  grocery,  you  know,  below  the 
restaurant,  and  although  I  was  on  my  feet  almost  with 
the  first  stroke  of  the  monumental  bell,  I  could  only, 
by  its  light,  huddle  some  clothing  on,  and  drag  the 
small  trunk,  which  stood  nearest  the  door,  down  stairs, 
before  the  flames  were  shooting  out  of  our  upper  win- 
dows. I  left  Phil  for  one  moment,  and  ran  back  to 
the  office,  through  the  smoke  and  flying  sparks,  to  get 
the  money  and  a  bundle  of  papers  which  Mr.  Peters 
had  left  there  the  night  before.  But  the  corner  of  our 
bedroom  was  already  on  fire,  and  I  could  not  attempt 
to  move  the  heavy  trunk.  I  had  to  fly  down  the  stairs 
myself,  to  escape  being  buried.  Of  course  I  took  refuge 
at  the  Marsdens',  where  I  am  now  staying.  Mrs.  Hard- 
ing also  remains  here,  quiet  and  benumbed,  it  seems  to 
me,  but  ever,  I  fear,  leaning  toward  that  accursed  life 
that  has  blasted  hers." 

The  next  week  came  another  letter,  saying  that  Mr. 
Marsden  had  heard  of  a  private  teacher  or  governess 
being  wanted  in  Sacramento,  and  she  was  to  see  the 
party  next  day.  They  met,  but  the  dreadful  vulgarity 
and  ignorance  of  the  man  forbade  all  further  thought 
of  that.  "  I  could  never  think  of  occupying  a  subordi- 
nate position,"  said  Eleanore,  "  under  such  a  head,  and 
I  fear,  dear  Anna,  that  this  difficulty  will  meet  me 
everywhere  here  ;  there  are  so  few  refined  families  yet 
in  the  country — so  very  few  who  are  settled  and  ready 
to  employ  a  governess.  I  never  occupied  such  a  posi- 
tion, and  I  do  not  know  how  I  could  suit  my  spirit  to 
its  burdens,  under  the  best  circumstances,  but  I  should 
be  very  glad  to  try,  with  reasonable  chances  of  success. 
Captain  Dahlgren  was  right  when  he  said  that  there 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  361 

were  few  cultivated  or  accomplished  women  wanted 
here.  I  feel  very  much  saddened  and  depressed  at  the 
prospect  before  me.  The  '  outlook,'  as  Carlyle  says, 
is  so  short  and  dim  and  confused.  And  while  I  am 
waiting,  I  find  myself  remembering  the  good  Swede's 
oifer  to  us,  and  turning  frequently  to  those  older  com- 
munities in  South  American  cities.  What  would  you 
say,  were  you  to  hear  some  day  that  I  had  gone  to 
Chili  or  Peru?  They  are  not  so  very  far  off,  you 
know,  and  the  social  order  in  which  women  like  us 
can  best  live  and  move,  prevails  there  as  it  will  not 
here  in  many  years. 

"  Do  you  hear  of  Col.  Anderson  lately  ?  Mr. 
Marsden  told  me  he  forwarded  a  letter  to  you  the 
other  day ;  but,  like  any  other  man,  he  did  not  observe 
the  post-mark.  I  would  hope  that  it  was  from  him, 
except  that  there  has  been  time  enough  for  you  to 
have  returned  an  inclosure  to  me,  and  none  has  come. 
Did  you  receive  a  letter  from  him,  and  none  for  me  ? 
Tell  me,  and  what  he  said.  I  am  so  very  lonely  and 
friendless  without  you.  Friendless  in  the  near  sense, 
I  mean,  for  good  Mrs.  Marsden  knows  nothing  of  the 
past,  and  so  we  cannot  be  confidential. 

"  Gray's  trial  is  coming  on  next  week,  and  our  poor 
Mrs.  Harding  is  almost  beside  herself — thoroughly 
roused  from  her  stupor,  and  asking  the  one  question 
that  concerns  her,  by  every  glance  of  her  eye  and  every 
change  of  position,  when  one  enters  the  house  or  a  foot- 
step is  heard. 

"  John  Harding  wrote,  two  or  three  days  after  the 
fire,  to  repair  the  loss  of  my  house  by  offering  one  with 
him.  The  letter  was  not  well-spelled,  neither  was  it 
faultless  in  style,  but  it  was  very  manly  and  sincere, 

16 


362  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

and  I  wish  it  had  been  addressed  to  somebody  whose 
heart  it  would  have  gladdened,  as  it  might  have  a 
great  many." 

Before  this  letter  came,  I  had  sent  her  a  note  from 
Col.  Anderson,  and  when  her  next  reached  me,  it 
breathed  the  breath  of  rest  and  contentment  in  its  first 
lines : 

"  Thanks,  dear  Anna,  for  yours,  with  what  it  con- 
tained. The  Kohinoor  would  have  paled  before  it. 
This  will  not  hold  much  longer.  He  will  bring  me  to 
confession  by  his  own  generosity,  for  one  cannot  resist 
that.  Did  he  speak  to  you  of  going  to  phili  ?  He 
expresses  some  such  purpose  to  me,  and  I  wish  to  know 
whether  or  not  you  have  possibly  led  him  to  it,  by  an 
intimation  of  my  looking  in  that  direction.  I  cannot 
conclude  from  his  note,  though  it  has  been  near  my 
heart  ever  since  I  received  it ;  and  I  ought,  therefore,  to 
be  informed  of  the  spirit  in  which  every  word  was  writ- 
ten. Write,  and  answer  me  this  question.  I  shall 
decide  on  something  in  a  few  days." 

I  had  conveyed  no  hint  to  Col.  Anderson  that  she 
thought  of  South  America,  and  I  said  so. 

"Then,"  she  replied,  "you  have  cemented  anew  the 
bond  of  trust  between  us,  though  it  needed  not  that 
service.  I  shall  go  to  Chili  next  month,  and  my  only 
wish  now,  is,  that  you  could  leave  your  position  and  go 
with  me.  I  have  met  in  the  last  three  days  a  lady  who 
has  resided  four  years  in  Valparaiso,  and  she  assures 
me  that  we  should  have  no  difficulty  in  employing 
ourselves  there  as  governesses  or  teachers.  But  I  ought 
to  tell  you  that  the  compensation  would  but  little  ex- 
ceed half  that  you  receive  here. 

"  You  have  scarcely  told  me  yet,  dear  Anna,  how 
you  find  yourself — what  is  your  school,  and  how  and 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  363 

where  do  you  live  ?  Have  you  any  Eleanore  to  worry 
or  help  you  ?  I  sometimes  fear  I  may  kave  done  more 
of  the  former  than  of  the  latter.  But  tell  me — for  I 
wish  to  know  before  I  leave  the  land  which  contains 
you — that  you  are  not  going  to  be  left  socially  destitute 
by  my  departure." 

I  certainly  had  no  one  to  replace  her.  I  was  too 
wise  to  look  for  or  expect  that ;  but  I  was  able  to  de- 
scribe myself  as  living  very  comfortably  in  a  private 
family  of  New  York  people — a  father,  mother,  and  two 
young  daughters,  who  were  among  my  pupils — and  my 
school  as  large,  and  made  up  chiefly  of  bright  and  in- 
teresting, though  often  rude  and  ill-bred  children. 
"  On  the  whole,"  I  said,  "  as  good  a  position  and  as 
comfortable  as  I  ought  to  expect,  I  suppose ;  and  if  I 
had  never  known  you,  I  dare  say  I  should  be  diligently 
compressing  myself  into  it,  in  the  full  conviction  that 
I  ought  to  be  content,  and  even  thankful  for  it.  But 
you  have  taken  that  religion  away  from  me.  I  aspire 
to  something  better,  and  I  long  for  communion  with 
you,  who  have  led  me  to  it.  I  rest  sometimes  in  the 
good  progress  of  my  pupils  and  in  my  hopes  for  them  ; 
but  even  then  I  lack  somebody  to  appreciate  and  sus- 
tain me  by  the  courage  and  life  I  have  hitherto  received 
from  you.  Dear  Eleanore,  since  I  have  been  here,  I 
more  than  ever  admire  Col.  Anderson's  firmness. 
Would  it  flatter  you  if  I  should  say  that  sometimes,  on 
a  Friday  evening,  I  am  so  tempted  to  take  the  boat 
and  go  down,  that  I  have  a  painful  struggle  to  keep 
myself  here  ?  A  few  hours,  I  fancy,  would  so  refresh 
and  help  me.  I  have  never  known  a  person  who  had 
so  much  of  that  power,  or  felt  so  clearly  in  any  soul  its 
spontaneous  flow.  Tell  me  when  you  are  going,  for  I 
must  see  you  once,  at  least." 


364:  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

In  a  few  days  came  a  letter,  saying  she  had  taken 
passage  in  a  vessel  which  was  expected  to  sail  the  next 
week,  and  they  should  expect  me  on  Friday  night. 
uMr.  Marsden  will  meet  you  at  the  boat,  on  its  land- 
ing," she  said,  "  that  not  an  hour  of  our  precious  time 
may  he  lost." 

I  had  already  learned  by  the  papers  that  Gray  had 
escaped  punishment,  by  the  disagreement  of  the  jury, 
but  had  been  obliged  to  leave  the  city  by  Mr.  John 
Harding,  who  gave  him  warning,  in  the  court-room,  on 
the  rendering,  that,  whenever  he  should  meet  him  in 
the  town  after  that  hour  the  next  day,  he  would  take 
his  life  if  he  could ;  and  as  he  was  sustained  by  a  strong 
party  of  friends,  the  miscreant  had  been  prudent  enough 
to  flee  for  the  time.  From  Eleanore  I  had  learned  that 
Mrs.  Harding,  so  deserted,  had  wilted  down  into  a  state 
of  passive,  helpless  submission  to  whatever  was  re- 
quired of  her ;  and  so  they  had  sent  her  home  by  the 
steamer,  two  or  three  days  after  the  trial  was  over — a 
more  fortunate  termination  of  her  stay  than  any  of  us 
hoped  for,  till  it  came. 


CHAPTEK    XLY. 

The  rainy  season  was  now  at  hand,  which  would  be 
a  new  experience  to  us  summer  emigrants,  not  a  drop 
having  yet  fallen  in  the  four  long  months  we  had  been 
in  the  country.  There  were  occasional!}'  cloudy  even- 
ings and  nights,  and  Eleanore  often  referred  to  the 
pleasure  she  and  Phil  had  in  afternoon  walks,  now  that 
the  winds  had  abated. 

"  We  go  upon  the  hills,"  she  said,  "  or,  when  he  is 
tired,  I  go  alone  and  look  at  the  sunset  over  the  ocean, 
and  think,  with  a  heart-ache,  of  that  solitary  island 
where  the  afternoon  shadows  are  lengthening  on  the 
sands,  and  where  one  falls  that  my  eye  will  never  more 
measure.  I  know,  dear  Anna,  that  he  is  not  there. 
I  see  and  feel  him  in  a  world  of  light  and  growth, 
where  all  is  living  power,  beauty,  expansion,  and  pro- 
gress ;  where  low  conditions  do  not  imprison,  and  dark- 
ness does  not  hinder  or  becloud  his  radiant  soul.  I  feel 
that  my  child  is  there.  I  think  of  him  in  these  rela- 
tions, and  am  conscious  that  he  is  not  lost  to  me  in  that 
grave  ;  and  yet  I  cling  to  the  memory  of  it,  because  it 
is  the  one  spot  on  earth  that  is  identified  with  that  be- 
loved form.  Harry  whom  my  soul  loves,  and  will  rejoice 
in  when  we  meet  face  to  face  again,  is  not  there  ;  but 
Harry  whom  these  arms  have  cherished,  whom  these  lips 
have  kissed,  and  this  heart  of  flesh  delighted  itself  in,  is 
yet  there ;  and  so  I  yearn  toward  it  painfully,  as  I  should 


366  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

irresistibly  toward  the  dear  form,  were  it  now  here 
before  me.  I  have  suffered  more  from  painful  memo- 
ries of  that  period  in  this  idle  fortnight,  than  in  all  the 
time  we  were  together.  I  miss  you  sorely,  and  some- 
times feel  afraid  to  trust  myself  away  in  a  foreign 
country  without  you,  knowing  that  I  shall  not  readily 
find  one  to  fill  your  place  in  my  trust  and  affection. 
And  it  is  so  necessary,  dear,  for  me  to  be  fully  under- 
stood by  some  one,  when  I  am  otherwise  surrounded 
by  strangers." 

I  fully  appreciated  this  necessity,  for  I  had  so  often 
been  compelled  to  interpret  her  to  others,  that 
I  had  come  to  regard  myself  as,  in  certain  sort, 
necessary  to  her.  And  this  feeling  increased,  on  my 
part,  the  pain  of  our  separation.  I  found  myself  often 
saying,  mentally,  in  my  unoccupied  moments — now 
Eleanore  is,  perhaps,  doing  or  saying  something  that  I 
ought  to  be  tljere  to  explain,  by  looks  if  not  in  words ; 
people  are  so  likely  to  mistake  her  in  some  way.  It 
troubled  me  not  a  little,  and  made  me  often  think  seri- 
ously of  forming  some  plan  by  which  we  could  be 
together  again  ;  but  this  removal  to  Chili  seemed  to  put 
an  end  to  all  hope  of  that.  Beside,  I  said,  she  will  soon 
have  one  there,  who,  when  he  has  come  near  her  heart, 
will  take  her  from  me  wholly  ;  and  should  I  not  then 
fall  to  the  ground,  overlooked  and  forgotten  by  both, 
in  their  great  and  sufficient  happiness  ?  No,  I  said, 
sharply  reproving  in  my  heart  these  yearnings  to  re- 
join myself  to  that  high  soul — no,  you  are  to  go  on 
alone.  The  barrenness  of  life  is  to  you  henceforth — 
not  its  bloom  in  the  sunshine  of  such  affection  as  hers. 
She  has  insight  where  you  are  dull ;  she  is  strong  where 
you  are  weak ;  she  is  large-souled,  and  still  expanding, 
where  you,  in  your  solitariness,  are  narrow,  and  daily 
narrowing  to  your  little  life  and  its  little  future. 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  367 

I  was  packing  my  traveling-satchel  for  my  last  visit 
to  her,  while  I  thns  lamented  and  doomed  myself. 
There  was  bitterness  in  my  heart — I  will  not  deny  it — 
while  these  thoughts  were  cutting  like  a  two-edged 
blade  through  its  hopes  and  complacencies.  "Why 
should  she  be  so  much  happier  than  I  ?  I  could  not 
see  where  I  had  ever  lived  unworthily.  My  life  had 
not  been  idle.  It  had  not  been  a  selfish  one.  I  had 
cared  for  and  aided  others,  all  the  way  through  it,  to 
the  limit  of  my  ability,  and  sometimes  beyond.  I  had 
not  separated  myself  from  the  happiness  and  suffering 
of  those  who  had  moved  beside  me  through  the 
years  of  womanhood.  I  had  dealt  justly,  and  in  all 
things  preserved  my  self-respect.  I  had  reverenced 
God  and  loved  humanity.  I  had  been  in  the  main 
faithful  to  my  highest  religious  convictions.  Why, 
then,  was  I  here,  in  the  dark  valley,  and  she  there,  far 
toward  the  summit  of  the  mountain  of  happiness, 
bathed  in  its  warm  light  and  breathing  its  odorous  airs, 
with  health  in  her  soul  and  joy  in  every  motion  ?  It 
could  only  happen  so  to  us,  I  said,  rebelliously,  through 
the  unequal  distribution  of  life's  first  gifts — the  powers 
with  which  we  enter  the  fair  garden  that  invites  our 
young  feet,  where  some  find,  as  she  has,  endless  paths 
of  beauty  before  them,  and  others,  as  myself,  only  grim, 
desolate  walks  of  toil  and  pain. 

My  soul  was  darkened  in  that  hour.  I  exaggerated 
both  sides  of  my  picture.  I  dipped  the  brush  of  my 
memory  in  black,  and  dashed  it  rudely,  again  and 
again,  across  that  beautiful  golden  light  in  my  past, 
where  the  image  of  Herbert  appeared  and  reap- 
peared, smiling  upon  me.  I  obstinately  turned  away 
from  the  bright  recollections  of  my  cherished  and 
revered  mother ;  and  would  not,  in  that  moment,  suf- 
fer any  slender  streamlet  of  happiness  to  flow  into  my 


368  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

soul  from  the  thought  of  my  noble,  loving  father, 
though  he  had  treasured  my  peace,  ever  after  Her- 
bert's death,  as  tenderly  as  a  mother  treasures  her  young 
child.  I  would  not  see  the  blessings  that  had  come  to 
me,  because  here,  on  the  other  side,  was  a  life  so  much 
richer  and  larger  than  mine;  filled  yet  to  the  brim 
with  strong  and  active  purposes  of  growth  ;  with  broad 
and  keen  interest  in  the  ideas  and  systems  by  which 
men  and  women  are  to  ascend  to  higher  planes  of  be- 
ing ;  with  ecstatic  motherhood ;  and  crowned,  above 
all  this  wealth  and  brightness,  with  worshiping  love — 
the  supreme  gift  and  the  divinest  joy  of  all.  I  could 
not  balance  these  accounts,  and  I  went  on  my  way 
pitying  myself,  with  something  akin  to  contempt,  and 
thinking  of  her  in  a  spirit  that  I  am  ashamed  to  say 
was  nearer  to  accusation  than  forgiveness. 

The  journey  down  the  San  Joaquin  is,  at  best,  not 
an  interesting  one  ;  and,  in  my  state  of  mind,  it  had 
no  power  to  charm  or  draw  me  away  from  myself. 
The  shrunken  stream,  flowing  between  banks  of  a 
dead  level ;  mountains  in  the  distance,  covered  with 
the  sere  harvest  of  indigenous  oat ;  the  plains  or 
marshes,  then  dry,  making  their  way  occasionally  to  the 
river's  edge,  and  all  the  near  country  shut  out  from  view 
by  the  sunken  position  of  the  boat,  crawling  along  in  the 
bottom  of  the  shallow  chasm  which  contained  the  cur- 
rent— these  were  the  features  that  chiefly  impressed  me 
during  the  short  period  of  daylight  that  remained  to  us 
after  we  left  Stockton. 

At  dark  I  went  into  the  cabin,  the  air  feeling  damp 
and  the  clouds  threatening  rain — which  came  palpably 
down  before  we  reached  the  bay,  and  was  still  falling 
when  the  boat  came  up  to  the  wharf.  Mr.  Marsden 
stepped  on  board  as  soon  as  the  plank  was  thrown  out. 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  369 

"  I  have  brought  you,"  said  he,  after  our  greetings 
were  over,  "  india-rubbers  and  a  large  shawl.  My 
wife  and  Mrs.  Bromfield  thought  you  might  come  with- 
out them  :  and  also  an  umbrella.  But  it  is  very  dark, 
and  as  I  know  every  step,  and  you  do  not,  over  the 
rough  way,  perhaps  you  had  better  take  my  arm,  and 
come  under  this  one." 

I  felt  wearied,  from  my  emotions  as  well  as  loss  of 
rest,  and  for  once  was  disposed,  if  it  were  not  too  costly, 
to  drive  up  the  hill. 

"  What  will  they  charge  to  take  us  to  your  house  ?" 
I  asked.  "  It  seems  an  ugly  walk  in  the  darkness  and 
rain." 

"  More,  I  think,  than  you  will  be  willing  to  pay. 
I  will  inquire,  however  " — and  presently  he  returned 
with  a  hackman,  who  said  he  would  take  me  for  twenty 
dollars,  and  both  of  us  for  twenty-five. 

"  Almost  a  week's  wages  !"  I  said,  to  Mr.  Marsden. 
"  No,  I  can't  indulge  myself  at  that  price  yet.  We 
will  walk." 

And  I  seemed  to  recover  strength  and  animation 
with  every  step  that  brought  me  nearer  to  her,  while 
Mr.  Marsden  was  quietly  letting  fall  some  enthusiastic 
words  of  praise. 

"  My  wife  and  I,"  he  said,  "  are  just  beginning  to 
feel  wljat  your  friend  is.  We  are  plain  sort  of  people, 
and  do  not  understand  her  as  well  as  if  we  were  more 
like  her,  but  we  have  both  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
she  is  a  woman  of  a  thousand,  and  will  be  a  real  loss 
to  us." 

When  I  stepped  within  his  door,  I  found  myself 
clasped  in  Eleanore's  arms,  with  tears  and  kisses  falling 
on  my  face. 

It  was  far  past  midnight,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mars 
16* 


370  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

den   soon   retired,  enjoining  upon   us,  with   friendly 
earnestness,  as  they  went,  to  seek  rest  also. 

"We  will  rest  here,  my  own  dear  Anna,"  said 
Eleanore,  when  we  were  alone,  drawing  my  weary 
head  to  her  shoulder,  and  looking  into  my  face. 
"  There  is  more  sadness  than  pleasure  in  these  eyes," 
she  added.  "  What  is  it  ?  Tell  me." 

"  Are  you  not  going  away  ?"  I  replied  ;  "  and  is  not 
this,  in  all  probability,  the  last  time  we  shall  ever  meet  ? 
Ought  I  to  feel  glad,  even  though  I  am  here  with  you 
once  more  ?" 

Her  eyes  suffused  while  I  was  speaking.  "  I  do  not 
believe,"  she  said,  "  it  is  our  last  communion  together, 
Anna,  though  I  do  not  see  when  or  how  the  next  is  to 
happen.  But  we  seem  to  belong  to  each  other,  dear. 
I  almost  think  I  did  not  feel  your  worth  to  me  till  we 
were  parted,  for  I  look  in  vain  since  for  any  other  heart  to 
answer  mine,  as  this  good,  noble  one  has,  so  often  and 
so  faithfully." 

"  Oh,  Eleanore,"  I  said,  "  do  not  accuse  me  by  a 
too  generous  estimate  of  my  poor  nature.  Do  you  know 
it  is  capable  of  bitterness,  and  something  so  near  to 
envy,  that  I  feel  reproached  by  your  tenderness  and 
warmth  of  heart  ?" 

She  looked  at  me  in  surprise,  and  then  an  incredu- 
lous half-smile  stole  over  her  wondering  features. 

"  It  is  true,"  I  said,  "  and  envy  of  you,  dear 'friend, 
too.  Do  not  stop  me  " — seeing  her  about  to  speak — 
"  till  I~have  laid  my  wickedness  all  before  you,  and 
then  I  will  hear  your  good  words." 

And  I  told  her  all  I  have  already  told  you,  but 
more  fully,  feeling  myself  drawn  on  to  utter  frankness 
and  self- cleansing,  by  the  kindly  and  trusting  light  that 
shone  down  on  me  from  her  matchless  face. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  371 

When  I  had  done,  we  were  both  silent.  I  was  look- 
ing at  the  handful  of  coals  and  dying  brands  that  lay 
before  us  on  the  hearth,  and  I  waited  for  her  voice  so 
long,  without  hearing  it,  that  I  at  last  looked  up,  to  see  % 
tears  falling  slowly  from  her  eyes,  in  which  I  felt  the 
light  of  happiness  as  much  as  the  gloom  of  pain. 

"  Eleanore,"  I  said,  "  do  not  weep  for  me.     I  am 
scarcely  worthy  of  tears  that  flow  so  rarely  as  yours  do." 

"It  is  not  for  you  only,  but  myself,  dear  Anna. 
You  have  summed  up  for  me,  afresh,  all  that  I  have  to 
be  grateful  for,  which  one  forgets  sometimes,  you  know. 
I  do  not  wish,  however,  to  speak  now  of  my  riches, 
which  are,  indeed,  great — with  Phil,  and  that  other, 
whom  we  need  not  name,  and  you,  good  child,  beside 
some  dear  ones  left  behind  us.  Let  them  pass.  But 
in  the  account  you  have  given  me  of  yourself,  you  have 
reflected  the  sad  internal  record,  I  suspect,  of  many  a  life, 
that  does  not,  perhaps,  once  in  all  its  years  of  duration, 
reach  itself  out  as  you  have  done  to-day.  You  ask  me  , 
how  blessings  can  be  so  unequally  divided  between 
persons  whose  lives  are  equally  pure,  obedient,  and 
faithful  ?  You  come  to  me  for  wisdom  which  I  have 
not  to  give  you.  The  sages  and  philosophers,  the 
churchmen  and  schoolmen,  the  economists  and  states- 
men, have  failed,  and  do  perpetually  fail  in  solving  this 
question.  Each  thoughtful  soul,  I  suppose,  in  some 
grave,  high  hours,  attempts  the  solution  for  itself,  and 
perhaps  penetrates  the  mists  a  little  way,  but  is  finally 
beaten  back  to  the  cold  kingdom  of  mere  question. 
Some  impatient  spirits  have  doubtless  hurried  through 
the  portals  of  death,  to  get  the  answer  which  life  denied 
them.  But  for  me, 

"  *  The  doubt  must  rest  I  dare  not  solve, 
In  the  same  circle  we  revolve; 
Assurance  only  breeds  resolve.'" 


372  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"And  have  you  never,  then,"  I  asked,  from  all 
your  large  questioning  and  patient  thought,  drawn  any 
satisfying  light  to  your  own  soul  ?" 

"  Perhaps  a  gleam  now  and  then,"  she  replied,  with 
the  help  of  modern  thought  and  research  into  the  na- 
ture of  our  humanity.  One  thing  I  am  clear  about, 
and  that  is,  that  many  lives  are  reckoned  worthy  and 
obedient,  according  to  the  world's  best  standards,  which 
are  truly  something  less.  The  world's  standard  cannot 
measure  our  obedience  or  happiness,  dear  Anna,  when 
we  rise  by  even  a  hair's-breadth  above  the  world's  wis- 
dom and  development.  Then  obedience  becomes  ex- 
alted faithfulness  to  something  within,  which  the  world 
knows  not  of;  and  to  fall  short  of  that,  is  a  dereliction 
which  stands  first  in  the  great  statute-book  of  the 
soul.  I  know  more  of  this  sort  of  experience  among 
my  own  sex  than  men,  and  I  suppose  the  know- 
ledge is  common  to  most  thoughtful  and  observant 
women. 

"  There  are  thousands  of  maids,  wives,  and  mo- 
thers, in  our  country,  who  are  deliberately  and  pur- 
posely belittling  themselves,  that  they  may  remain  in  a 
certain  measure,  which  is  smaller  than  their  nature 
demands — keeping  down  to  the  husband's  level,  or  the 
father's,  or  the  brother's,  or  the  lover's.  There  are 
women  who  shun  the  thought,  either  printed  or  spoken, 
that  would  fledge  their  soul  and  send  it  forth  to  try  its 
own  pinion  in  the  universe  which  the  good  Father 
widened  and  glorified,  as  well  for  them  as  for  any. 
There  are  others,  who  shrink  weakly  from  the  high 
labor  of  development,  though  broad  kingdoms,  peopled 
with  majestic  forms  of  thought  and  beauty,  flash  invi- 
tation and  encouragement  upon  them,  when  they  will 
lift  their  cowering  eyes  to  behold  them. 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  373 

"  Yet  all  these  are  good  women,  often  noble  women — 
measured  by  the  world's  standard ;  living  pure  lives, 
doing  good,  loving  mercy,  and,  if  it  would  not  sound 
like  irony,  I  would  add,  walking  humbly.  None  but 
themselves,  or  some  soul  trusted  as  their  own,  can 
know  how  much  less  they  have  done  and  been  than 
was  required  of  them  by  that  sacred  voice  and  '  light 
within,'  as  our  Quaker  friends  have  it. 

"  What  is  the  world's  standard  to  me,  when  I  see 
beyond  and  above  it,  and  know  and  feel  in  my  inmost 
consciousness  that  there  lies  my  path,  and  not  here,  in 
the  way  which  is  already  beaten  to  flinty  hardness  be- 
neath the  thronging  feet  of  them  that  hurry  up  to  have 
their  moral  stature  certified  by  the  great  clerk,  Society  ? 
If  I  have  a  living  soul  within  me,  individual  culture  and 
growth,  to  the  utmost  limit  of  its  capacity,  can  alone 
insure  me  peace  and  joy  in  its  possession.  If  I  sit 
down,  stifling  and  compressing  it,  because  use  and  cus- 
tom require  that  I  should,  or  because  by  rising  I  may 
agitate  the  stagnant  levels  of  the  life  about  me,  I  can 
but  lay  up  bitterness  for  myself  in  so  doing  ;  and  then, 
perhaps,  I  should  come,  in  certain  moods  and  hours,  to 
compare  my  state  with  a  higher  and  truer  one,  and 
accuse  some  undefined  power,  which  I  might  call  life, 
or  fate,  or  nature,  or  if  very  daring,  even  God  himself, 
of  an  unequal  distribution  of  the  goods. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  added,  after  a  pause,  smooth- 
ing my  hair,  "  that  I  have  touched  your  case.  In- 
deed, I  believe  I  have  not ;  but  I  have  given  you  my 
best  thought  and  light.  It  would  come  nearer  to  some 
other  experiences,  dear,  because  of  those  great  chasms 
in  yours  which  marriage  and  maternity,  however  inad- 
equately they  may  answer  our  demands,  do,  in  some 
sort,  either  close  up  or  convert  to  flowering  plains 


374:  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

around  most  women.  Life  is  very  beautiful  and 
blessed  when  used  nobly.  Could  we  conceive  of 
greater  or  more  perfect  happiness  than  falls  to  the  lot 
of  one  born  with  organic  soundness,  full  and  harmoni- 
ous endowments,  enjoying  freedom,  and,  in  perfect 
measure,  all  the  divine  relations  which  God  has  ap- 
pointed to  the  periods  of  maturity  and  age  ?  I  have 
often  considered  this,  and  wondered  how  the  Church 
could  so  long  have  taught  the  degrading  and  destruct- 
ive doctrine  of  the  '  Fall,'  substituting  therein  an  arbi- 
trary and  narrow  salvation  by  faith,  for  that  glorious 
one  which  is  only  the  fruit  of  development  in  noble  and 
godlike  uses." 

"  I  rejected  that  long  ago,"  said  I.  "  I  was  taught 
it  in  my  youth  very  diligently,  and  my  mother  died 
firm  in  that  belief;  but  I  rejoiced  to  see  my  father 
emancipated  from  it,  and  at  peace,  years  before  his 
death,  in  the  Church  to  which,  I  believe,  I  led  him. 
That  is  one  large  item  in  my  past  which  I  never  recol- 
lect without  a  substantial  feeling  of  satisfaction.  But, 
Eleanore,  come  to  my  case.  You  have  spoken  clearly, 
and  your  words  have  tranquillized  and  helped  me  to 
cast  off  for  the  time  this  bitter  burden.  But  tell  me, 
now,  what  is  left  to  me  for  the  rest  of  life  that  I  can 
cultivate  into  a  flower  which  shall  at  least  resemble 
happiness  ?" 

There  was  another  silence.  At  length  she  said : 
"  There  is  always  work,  Anna :  and  by  that  I  do  not 
mean  simply  labor  or  employment,  as  the  opposite  of 
idleness,  but  work  which  bears  the  right  relation  to 
your  spiritual  life — the  relation  of  educating  and  ele- 
vating either  the  intellect  or  affections,  or  both,  which 
is  better." 

"  But  consider  the  difficulty  of  getting  such  to  do," 
said  I. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  375 

"  Yes,  that  is  a  serious  and  oppressive  thought  to 
all  whose  work  must  bring  them  support — most  of  all, 
to  an  aspiring  woman.  But  if  you  value  growth  be- 
fore gain — and  I  know  no  gospel  for  the  soul  that  does 
not — you  will  always  be  able  to  rescue  some  hours 
every  day  from  your  productive  labor,  whatever  it  be, 
for  the  acquisition  of  new  thoughts  or  the  carrying  of 
old  ones  to  their  more  ultimate  deductions.  In  this 
way  there  can  always  be  some  culture  going  on,  unless 
one  is  absolutely  needy. 

"  Then,  one  grows  to  such  a  beautiful  afiectional 
life,  through  practical  charities,  which  may  be  the  work 
of  every  day.  Where  your  money  is  not  needed,  your 
courageous  word  may  be,  your  tender  sympathy,  or 
your  helpful  hand.  Where  there  are  not  sick  bodies 
there  are  often  aching  and  burdened  hearts,  whose  pain 
and  weariness  we  can  mitigate.  But  all  this  you  have 
known  and  done  promptly,  during  your  whole  life,  I 
know,  and  yet  there  is  a  great  pain  unrelieved.  Will 
you  bear  with  me  if  I  tell  you,  frankly,  that  it  is  the 
cry  of  your  womanhood,  which  you  have  denied  all 
these  years.  I  do  not  believe  in  celibacy,  Anna  ;  and 
—pardon  my  plainness,  dear  friend  —  I  respect  any 
individual  less,  of  either  sex,  who  lives  through  the 
ordinary  term  of  life  unmarried." 

I  could  not  altogether  suppress  the  emotions  which 
these  words  called  up  from  the  grave  of  past  hopes  and 
joys,  and  I  wept. 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  have  pained  you,  my  friend,"  said 
Eleanore.  "  I  do  not  quite  know  your  past,  nor  why 
you  are  now  Miss  Warren,  instead  of  some  good  man's 
beloved  and  honored  wife,  which  you  are  entitled  to 
be  ;  but  I  feel  that  if  you  have  consecrated  yourself  to 
some  sorrow,  such  as  I  guess  at,  you  ought  to  be  roused 


376  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

from  that  devotion,  and  see  that  while  it  is  life  which 
makes  all  demands  upon  you,  life  ought  to  furnish  you, 
in  some  measure,  at  least,  with  the  sources  of  strength 
and  courage  to  meet  them.  Persistent  love  is,  I  think, 
the  noblest  of  our  attributes,  and  profound  and  lasting 
grief  for  its  object  is  one  of  its  most  touching  and  beauti- 
ful expressions;  but  grief  rarely  kills  ;  and,  after  awhile, 
back  come  the  rushing  streams  of  life,  bearing  to  us, 
perhaps,  but  the  ghosts  of  former  hopes  and  purposes 
— yet,  at  least  those.  Old  desires  of  doing  and  being 
revive ;  we  find  the  same  world,  or  its  vivid  semblance, 
about  us  again.  It  treats  us  as  reality,  having  the 
same  wants  and  needs  as  before,  and  perhaps  shows  us 
greater  ones  than  we  ever  before  felt ;  and  then  I  hold 
it  wise  and  righteous,  when  the  pulses  of  the  heart  beat 
as  formerly,  and  the  affections  return  to  its  darkened 
chambers,  to  heed  their  demands." 

"  He  who  could  take  Herbert's  place  in  my  heart," 
said  I,  "  has  never  come  to  me." 

"  You  have  loved  and  lost,  then  ?"  she  said,  in- 
quiringly. 

"  Yes,  many  years  ago.  I  was  but  twenty,  and  now 
I  am  past  forty." 

"  And  have  you  not,  ever  since,  felt  a  pleasure,  and 
possibly  a  spark  of  pride,  in  the  thought  that  you  were 
devoting  yourself  to  his  memory  ?  Have  you  not 
counted  the  years,  sometimes,  when  you  have  indulged 
fond  memories  of  him,  and  said,  '  So  many,  dear  heart, 
have  I  consecrated  to  thee — so  many  have  I  faced  the 
fierce,  exacting  world,  alone,  because  thou  wert,  and 
are  not '  ?  I  do  not  say,  dear  Anna,  that  you  might 
have  loved  another,  had  you  dispossessed  your  mind  of 
this  phantom  of  heroism.  Possibly  you  might  not,  and 
that  would  be  the  hardest  lot  of  all  ;  but  it  seems  to  me 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  377 

most  probable,  with  so  much  life  and  health  of  nature 
as  you  possess  ;  and  then,  had  worth  and  congeniality 
proved  that  you  loved  wisely,  what  a  different  life  had 
been  yours  to-day ! 

"  I  am  persuaded,  Anna,  that  it  is  better  a  woman 
should  love,  even  though  it  prove  to  be  unworthily, 
and  marry,  even  if  her  hopes  be  disappointed,  than  ig- 
nore so  much  of  her  best  life  as  she  must  in  living 
singly.  And  if  to  the  marriage  be  added  the  glory  of 
motherhood,  she  is  thereby  victor  over  much  pain  and 
wretchedness.  God  is  her  ally  in  that,  against  the 
world.  Ask  any  wife  who  has  had  the  prayer  of  her 
heart  answered,  by  the  birth  of  a  child  to  the  man  she 
loves,  even  though  he  be  an  oppressor  and  tyrant,  and 
she  will  tell  you  that  all  her  past  wounds  found  healing 
there,  and  that  she  felt  the  universe  had  declared  for 
her  in  the  strife. 

"  I  do  not  know,  dear  friend,  that  I  can  do  so  true 
a  thing  for  you  in  any  other  way  as  to  help  you  shake 
off  the  delusion  which  has  shut  you  from  the  kingdom 
of  Love.  It  may  be  a  vain  thing  to  attempt,  and  may 
make  me  seem  almost  unworthy  of  the  affection  you 
honor  me  with :  but  I  will  say  it,  nevertheless.  Look 
at  the  world  of  men  and  women  and  children,  as  far  as 
possible,  with  your  healthy,  natural  eye.  Lay  rever- 
ently aside  that  cherished  memory,  and,  as  life  calls  on 
you  for  service  and  exertion,  demand  of  life  where- 
withal for  their  performance.  Try  Nature's  by  your 
own,  not  by  any  imaginary  standard,  which  is  no 
longer  within  your  true  and  living  appreciation,  and 
when  you  find  one  pure  and  noble  enough,  who  can 
appeal  to  your  heart,  do  not  shut  your  eyes  and  deafen 
your  soul,  but  see  and  hearken,  with  a  rational  purpose 
to  receive  the  good  that  may  come  to  you." 


CHAPTEK    XLVI. 

"  This  is  strange  talk  to  me  from  you,"  I  said,  sit- 
ting erect,  but  still  holding  her  hand  ;  "  and,  as  if  to 
rebuke  it,  there  is  the  daylight  creeping  gently  through 
that  east  window." 

"  Nay,  Anna,  not  to  silence,  but  sanction,  as  I  hope 
your  own  heart  does.  Remember,  I  would  rather  you 
should  die  Miss  "Warren,  than  marry  without  loving. 
But  I  believe  that  might  very  naturally  be  an  experi- 
ence of  yours  yet,  if  you  would  free  yourself  of  the 
past." 

"  Could  I  love  as  you  do,  and  would  you  ask  me  to 
accept  less  ?" 

The  bright  color  mantled  her  cheek  and  brow  at 
these  words,  and  a  thrill  of  feeling  shook  her  visibly, 
as  she  said  :  "  Oh,  Anna,  do  not  ask  so  much !  Is 
there  one  woman  in  thousands  so  blest  ?  Even  in  my 
reasonable  moods,  I  sometimes  think  there  is  none  be- 
side. I  have  at  last  written  him,  dear,  and  you  shall 
see  if  I  have  done  justice  to  both.  Come  up  to  our 
old  room.  Phil  is  there,  and  after  you  have  read  the 
letters,  you  may  wake  him.  He  went  to  bed  reluct- 
antly after  I  told  him  you  were  coming,  and  there  will 
be  deep  rejoicing  in  his  little  heart  at  sight  of  you." 

The  letters  were  produced — first  Col.  Anderson's. 
"  Small,"  I  said,  "  to  be  of  more  value  than  Victoria's 
new  diamond." 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  379 

"Read  and  see,"  she  whispered,  "how  bright  it 
must  have  been  to  me." 

"  I  wrote  you,"  he  said,  "in  September,  Eleanore, 
under  cover  to  Miss  Warren,  who  acknowledged  the 
receipt  of  my  letters.  I  scarcely  expected  an  acknow- 
ledgment from  you,  and  yet  I  found  myself  for  several 
weeks  going  to  the  post,  or  waiting  its  arrival  with  an 
interest  I  never  felt  before. 

"  You  have  not  written,  and  I  must  not  question 
but  you  are  right,  though  I  never  knew  another  whom 
I  would  so  believe  in. 

"  Dear  Eleanore,  you  will  be  mine  some  day,  I  know. 
I  feel  your  spirit  approaching  me.  Even  your  silence 
does  not  wholly  conceal  you:  for  I  have  said,  If  she 
were  altogether  indifferent  or  averse  to  me,  she  would 
not  hesitate  to  write.  She  is  too  well-bred  a  lady  and 
too  much  a  woman  of  the  world  not  to  reply  to  an 
earnest  letter  from  any  man  who  was  even 

"  'Level  to  her  hate.' 

"  So  you  see,  dearest,  that  while  I  can  hold  you  to 
nothing  special  or  narrow,  I  hold  you  broadly  to  all 
that  my  heart  desires ;  and  if  there  is  some  woman's 
spirit  to  be  first  wrought  out  in  independence,  or  some 
chastisement  to  be  inflicted  on  me  for  a  past  offense,  I 
will  wait  patiently  for  the  one,  and  bear  the  other  like 
a  very  lamb,  for  meekness.  I  only  pray  that  you  will 
not  go  too  far,  and  that,  when  my  term  is  ended,  I 
may  be  apprised  of  it. 

"  I  have  received  an  application  to  go  to  Chili,  and 
as  I  have  very  nearly  completed  what  I  undertook 
here,  and  am  inclined  to  wear  out  time  for  awhile,  with 
as  many  helps  as  I  can  get  to  that  worthy  end,  I  think 
I  shall  make  a  voyage  thither  during  the  autumn. 

"  Shall  I  see  you  on  my  way  ? 

J.  L.  ANDERSON." 

Then  I  took  in  hand  her  long-delayed,  precious 
first  letter.  "  Are  you  sending  him  your  card, 


380  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

madam  ?"  I  inquired,  ironically,  feeling  in  the  humor 
to  tease. 

"  Look  and  see." 

And  with  the  words  there  dropped  from  my  hand  a 
miniature  head — a  pencil-sketch  of  herself. 

"  Is  it  just  ?"  she  asked,  as,  surprised  and  delighted 
with  its  boldness,  yet  exquisite  beauty  and  faithfulness, 
I  continued  looking  at  it. 

"  It  seems  to  me  your  very  self,"  I  answered  ;  "  but 
in  a  mood  that  is  not  so  common  as  those  I  am  better 
acquainted  with." 

"  I  was  not  in  a  common  mood  when  I  did  it, 
Anna." 

"  I  see  that,"  I  replied,  "  in  the  eyes,  which  always 
tell  the  story  of  the  hour  with  you." 

They  were  wide-opened,  thoughtful,  steadfast,  shining 
eyes,  in  which  lay  the  shadow  of  a  depth  and  tender- 
ness as  sweet  and  assuring  as  the  soft  gloom  of  a  sum- 
mer fountain  in  a  dim  wood.  The  rather  severe  sym- 
metry of  her  face  was  relieved  by  the  play,  over  one 
temple,  of  a  single  luxuriant  fold  of  hair,  which  seemed 
to  have  slipped  from  its  fastenings  and  to  have  been 
put  in  the  sketch,  as  I  have  no  doubt  it  was,  in  utter 
abandonment  to  the  earnestness  of  purpose  wherewith 
she  had  wrought  it.  It  was  the  lofty,  serious,  yet  ten- 
der face,  I  had  seen  a  few  times,  when  no  conflicting 
emotions  sent  back  the  deep  tides  of  the  heart,  of  which 
it  was  a  beautiful  and  comforting  promise. 

"  It  is  better  than  any  letter  could  be,"  said  I,  after 
deliberately  examining  it.  "  I  could  almost  thank  you 
for  doing  yourself  so  much  justice  at  last.  But  I  am 
also  to  read  what  is  written,  am  I  not  ?" 

"  It  is  not  a  lengthy  epistle,  and  the  trouble  will 
not  be  very  great,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  I  have  no  wish 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  381 

to  press  it  on  your  attention  " — making  a  feint  to  take 
it  from  me. 

"  Desist,  O  rash  woman,"  said  I,  "  and  leave  me 
in  peace."  And  I  went  on  reading,  as  follows : 

"  Were  I  to  deny,  true  friend,  either  directly  or  in 
your  favorite  fashion,  by  inference,  that  I  have  suffered 
in  your  suffering,  and  hoped  in  your  hoping,  during 
several  months  past,  I  should  soil  my  soul  with  a  dis- 
honest utterance — which  I  can  never  do. 

"  It  is  harder  to  suppress  love's  bounty  than  to  lav- 
ish it ;  and  I  fear  I  might  have  proved  unequal  to  any 
measure  of  the  heroism  required  to  do  it  toward  you, 
had  I  not  been  aided  by 

*  Circumstance,  that  most  unspiritual  God,' 

whose  iron  tread  presses  out,  not  alone  sorrow  or 
strength,  or  joy  or  feebleness,  from  the  untried  depths  of 
the  nature,  but  sometimes  blesses  us,  darkly,  in  opening 
secret  and  divinest  fountains  of  power,  which  we  may 
not  have  before  suspected,  and  which  flow  into  the  vol- 
untary being  like  the  spirit  from  above — so  richly  do 
they  clothe  and  furnish  it  for  the  battle  and  the  sacri- 
fice that  life  may  then  demand. 

"  If  it  would  have  pained  you  never  to  have  spoken 
those  words  whose  remembrance  is  so  dear  to  me,  think 
not  that  I  have  any  more  escaped  that  condition  of  all 
conflict.  And  if  now  my  tardy  confession  lacks  the 
prodigality  with  which  love  makes  its  gifts,  believe  not 
that  it  is  because  of  poverty  or  stint  in  what  I  offer, 
but  only,  that,  in  giving  and  receiving,  I  am  the  stew- 
ard of  the  life-long  happiness  of  two  souls. 

"  Do  not  misapprehend  me,  thou  unto  whom,  if  dear 
hope  deceive  us  not,  I  must,  in  time,  become  better 
known  than  to  myself.  My  love  hath,  I  trust,  a  root 
of  greatness  befitting  its  object,  and  is,  therefore,  capa- 
ble of  accepting  any  terms," however  hard,  by  which  it 
may  be  perfected  in  measure,  and  made  worthy  thy 
possession.  I  acknowledge  it  to  thee  in  pride  and  joy, 
but  it  must  be  no  outward  bond  to  thee  or  me,  till  we 


382  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

are  further  known  to  each  other.  The  world  must  not 
assume  the  adjustment  of  our  relations,  till  we  see  so 
clearly  what  we  would  have  them,  that  it  can  only 
second  our  wisest  as  well  as  our  most  earnest  desire  in 
decreeing  their  perpetuity. 

"  Before  this  reaches  you,  I  shall  have  sailed  for 
Chili — the  country  where  we  shall  meet,  not  long 
hence,  to  prove  our  fitness  for  the  realization  of  the 
divine  dreams  and  purposes  that  fill  our  hearts. 
I  have  but  one  prayer — that  we  may  rise  to  the  high 
worthiness  which  alone  can  enjoy  their  fruition. 

"  This  head  I  drew  for  you  this  morning.  If  it  has 
any  merit,  it  is  due  rather  to  the  inspiration  of  the  pur- 
pose than  to  any  skill  in  treatment,  to  which  I  have 
but  slender  pretensions.  If  it  renders  to  you,  in  any 
degree,  the  heart-luxury  of  the  hour  I  spent  over  it,  I 
know  it  will  give  happiness  to  your  spirit,  which 
I  shall  be  happy  in  remembering,  after  all  the  pain 
I  have  caused  it. 

"  Phil  must  have  his  word  before  I  close.  His  eyes 
dilated  to  their  largest  and  brightest  when  I  asked  if 
he  had  any  message  to  '  the  Turnel.'  He  walked 
quickly  across  the  room  from  his  museum,  to  my  knee, 
and  said :  '  Tell  him  I  love  him,  mamma ;  and  I  do 
wish  he  would  come  and  live  with  us  again — in  a  ship, 
or  a  house.' 

"  You  will  not  need  be  told  how  many  loving  recol- 
lections he  entertains  of  you.  If  we  could  either  of  us 
lose  the  early  ones,  Antonio's  daily  faithfulness  would 
rebuke  us.  ELEANOEE  BROMFIELD." 

"  Stiff  and  cold  in  the  announcement  and  close,  is 
it  not,  dear  ?"  she  asked,  after  I  had  folded  and  re- 
placed it. 

"  Somewhat  so,  I  confess,  in  those  respects,  but 
otherwise  quite  reasonable  and  generous,  coming  from 
you." 

"Do  you  think  so?  Then,  I  am  afraid  it  may 
express  too  much ;  for  you,  I  believe,  exact  as  much 
for  him  as  he  would  for  himself." 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  383 

"  Not  a  word  too  much,"  I  replied,  concealing  my 
satisfaction  ;  "  not  a  word  too  much,  Eleanore.  You 
have  only  enlarged  his  ground  for  the  inference  that 
you  will  ever  be  anything  more  to  him  than  you  now 
are.  And  that  you  certainly  will  be,  or  I  know  no- 
thing of  the  laws  of  attraction.  It  is  very  well,  with 
your  views — perhaps  necessary  that  you  should  not 
promise  unreservedly ;  I  am  willing  to  think  that  it 
may  be  substantial  ground  which  you  have  kept  under 
your  feet  here  ;  but  you  will  as  surely  be  Col.  Ander- 
son's wife  as  if  you  had  engaged  yourself  uncondi- 
tionally in  that  letter." 

"  But  I  will  not  be,  Anna,  till  all  the  future  is  clear 
before  us ;  till  I  have  opened  to  him  my  inmost  heart, 
and  shown  him  every  demand  of  mine  that  can  affect 
our  freedom  toward  each  other.  Will  you  post  that 
letter  to  him  the  day  after  we  sail  ?" 

I  promised. 

"  Then  I  must  have  one  more  promise ;  and  that 
is,  that  you  will  join  me  in  Valparaiso,  if  I  find  myself 
justified  in  writing  for  you." 

"  I  shall  do  that  without  a  promise,  I  fear,  at  no  very 
distant  day.  I  would  go  with  you  now,  but  that  it  would 
seem  vacillating  and  weak — breaking  engagements  and 
giving  up  substantial  advantages  for  what  the  world 
would  call  a  poor  reason — that  I  might  follow  a  friend. 
Dear  Eleanore,  I  shall  feel  very  much  alone  when  I 
know  that  you  are  actually  outside  the  Golden  Gate, 
'  in  a  big  ship,'  as  Phil  will  say,  heading  away  to  sea. 
Darling  Phil !  Let  me  wake  him  now,  that  the  day- 
light may  show  me  to  him.  Put  out  the  lamp. 
I  want  to  see  him  study  me  in  the  dim  light."  Arid 
as  this  was  done,  I  bent  over,  and  pressing  him  in  my 
arms,  I  spoke  his  name,  and  said  :  "  Wake  up,  Phil, 
and  see  who  has  come." 


384 


THE   IDEAL  ATTAINED. 


Like  a  full-swelling  rose-bud  in  purity  and  beauty, 
he  lay  straight  upon  the  level  bed  ;  for  he  was  never 
allowed  a  pillow,  "  to  distort  his  back  or  curve 
his  shoulders,"  his  mother  said  ;  and  now  he  threw  up 
his  arms,  to  clasp  her  neck,  as  usual,  but  I  drew  back, 
and  let  them  close  upon  his  own  little  bosom. 

"  Mamma,"  he  cried,  startled  by  so  unusual  a  fact. 
"  mamma,  where  are  you  ?" 

By  the  time  the  last  words  were  uttered,  he  had 
opened  his  eyes,  and  they  were  now  widening  and 
widening,  in  a  fixed  and  studious  gaze  at  my  face, 
which  drew  nearer  to  him  as  he  looked. 

"  What's  'at — who's  'at,  here,  mamma,  by  me  ?" 
But  in  the  same  moment  he  made  me  out,  and  with 
the  characteristic  gesture  of  his  mother,  he  dashed  the 
hair  back  from  his  face,  and  reaching  up,  attached  him- 
self to  my  neck  with  such  a  clinging  hold — bringing 
back  thereby  the  recollection  of  old  experiences  of  this 
sort — that  I  was  fain  to  hide  a  tear  or  two  which  fell 
from  my  eyes. 

"  Is  Turnel  gone  ?"  were  his  next  words,  as  he  sat 
upright.  "  I  saw  him  here  just  now." 

"  No,  my  pet ;  you  must  have  been  dreaming." 

"  I  wish  it  wouldn't  be  a  dream,"  he  said,  sorrow- 
fully. "  Couldn't  you  bring  him,  Miss  Warren  ?" 

"  I  haven't  been  where  he  is,  Phil." 

"  Well,  I  wish  somebody  would  bring  him.  I  want 
him  so  much." 

"  I  know  who  could  bring  him  to-morrow,  Phil. 
Shall  I  tell  you?" 

"ANNA!"  exclaimed  Eleanore  from  the  window; 
and  I  was  obliged  to  resist  Phil's  entreaties,  and  prom- 
ise him  that  I  would  tell  the  "  Turnel,"  in  my  next 
letter,  how  much  he  wished  to  see  him. 


CHAPTEK  XLVII. 

The  day  of  sailing  was  set  for  Wednesday  or  Thursday 
of  the  following  week — "  which  is  more  likely,"  said 
Eleanore,  "remembering  our  old  disappointments  of 
this  kind,  to  be  at  the  least  a  whole  week  later."  I  went 
on  board  with  her  and  the  Marsdens,  to  see  her  room, 
which  was  small,  certainly,  and  very  plainly  furnished, 
but  well  ventilated — the  chief  comfort  one  can  expect 
in  sea  quarters.  She  had  had  to  supply  her  berth  and 
toilet  furniture,  linen,  towels,  &c.,  and  the  expense 
of  these,  beside  replacing  her  wardrobe  after  the  fire, 
and  paying  her  passage,  had  reduced  her  slender  funds 
materially.  I  proposed,  while  discussing  these  points, 
to  lend  her  some  money ;  but  she  would  not  hear  of  it, 
and  almost  grew  indignant  when  I  urged  it. 

"Am  I  not  going  to  leave  you  alone  here?"  she 
asked,  "  and  you  are  no  more  insured  against  calamity 
of  loss  or  sickness  than  I  am." 

And  when  I,  in  turn,  urged  the  possibility  that  she 
might  need  before  she  could  get  a  position,  she  still 
refused,  but  so  kindly  and  tenderly  that  I  was  com- 
pelled to  abandon  the  argument — but  not  the  purpose. 
I  asked  Mr.  Marsden  to  procure  for  me  a  fifty  dollar 
coin,  which  I  folded  in  a  note  and  left  in  his  wife's 
hands,  to  be  put  into  one  of  her  trunks  on  the  last  day. 

Those  two  days  with  her  were  at  once  busy  and 
idle — sad  and  happy.     We  could  not  see  when  or  how 
17 


386  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

we  were  to  meet  again ;  yet  both,  I  think,  held  a  sound 
faith  in  that  event.  I  had  to  leave  at  four  o'clock  on 
Sunday  evening,  and  we  sent  Phil  to  church  with  our 
host  and  hostess,  and  sat  alone  all  that  glorious  autumn 
morning,  talking  and  filling  our  souls  with  the  tranquil 
beauty  that  steeped  the  city,  the  bay,  and  the  country 
opposite. 

"  It  is  scarcely  five  months  since  we  landed  here," 
said  I,  "  and  yet  how  immense  the  visible  change  since 
that  day.  It  makes  us  feel  older  to  look  back  upon 
so  crowded  a  record  of  past  time ;  does  it  not  ?" 

"  Older  in  thought  and  experience,"  replied  Elea- 
nor e  ;  "  but  in  all  that  regards  the  physical  life  I  feel 
more  youth  in  me  than  I  have  for  years  before.  This 
peerless  climate  has  such  wealth  for  the  needs  of  the 
body,  I  think  one  must  continue  for  awhile  to  grow 
young  in  it." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  that  myself,  from  all  that  I  see  and 
hear  of  the  experiences  of  others  beside  ourselves ;  yet  I 
cannot  say  that  I  wish  to  live  here.  I  have  lost  with 
the  years  and  their  hopes,  the  relish  of  adventure  ;  the 
recklessness  and  haste  of  this  busy  life  jar  upon  me 
painfully,  and  when  I  am  separated  from  you,  I  feel 
the  lack  of  sustaining  aid  to  rise  above  these  frets." 

"  You  will  recover  from  this  in  a  measure,"  she 
said,  "  after  you  become  more  accustomed  to  others, 
and  turn  more  according  to  your  old  wont  upon  your- 
self. You  have  been  a  very  self-sustaining  woman,  I 
think,  Anna." 

"  Yes ;  but  now  I  feel  sometimes  that  I  have  only 
sustained  myself,  and  that  that  is,  at  best,  but  a  nega- 
tive work.  You  have  opened  my  interior  life  and  per- 
ceptions to  the  charm  and  beauty  of  growth,  and  for 
that  I  seem  to  need  help — such  help  as  you  have 
given  me." 


THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED.  387 

"  In  small  and  poor  measure,  I  feel,  dear  friend.  I 
have  been  scarcely  conscious  of  any  such  relation  to 
you  during  our  acquaintance,  and  if  it  is  not  an  affec- 
tionate imagination  of  yours,  I  ought  to  be  happy  in 
the  thought.  But  for  yourself,  believe  me  and  take 
courage,  you  do  not  need  the  help  you  crave.  With 
all  your  health  of  soul  and  body,  with  a  clear  percep- 
tion of  the  '  main  purport  and  significance  of  life,'  you 
will  not  miss  it.  And  then,  too,  a  soul  that  is  tho- 
roughly known  to  us  is  ours,  whether  near  or  distant. 
It  is  riches,  help,  and  strength ;  and  this  wealth,  if  we 
aspire  to  true  aims,  goes  on  accumulating  for  us  through 
all  the  years  of  our  toil.  If  we  have  found  any  inmost 
need  of  ours  answered  in  another  spirit,  there  is  an 
inalienable  treasure  added  to  us,  and  I  think  it  even 
matters  little  to  our  best  life,  in  this  high  relation, 
whether  death  has  come  between  us  or  not.  If  I  were 
going  to  the  kingdom  of  the  departed  next  week, 
instead  of  another  country  here,  should  I  be  lost  to 
you  ?  If  in  this  life  I  have  been  helpful,  I  could  never 
be  otherwise  in  another.  I  believe  it  is  an  eternal  law 
of  true  relations,  such  as  ours.  The  dead  live  to  all 
spiritual  natures  when  their  names  are  forgotten — for, 
as  Carlyle  grandly  says,  i  It  is  a  high,  solemn,  and 
almost  awful  thought  to  every  individual  man,  that  his 
earthly  influence,  which  has  had  a  beginning,  shall 
never,  through  all  ages,  were  he  the  very  meanest  of 
us,  have  an  end.'  If  I  live  hereafter,  and  I  can  only 
live  by  being  wholly  and  entirely  myself,  with  all  my 
affections,  hopes,  and  interests,  however  they  may  be 
modified  by  a  change  of  sphere,  I  should  certainly  be 
in  some  possible  relation  to  you  or  any  other  friend 
whom  I  love.  I  cannot  conceive  of  launching  off  into 
the  future  world,  and  severing  myself  from  all  the 


388  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

interests  and  persons  I  have  cherished  and  known 
here.  It  would  be  impossible  to  do  this  and  preserve 
my  identity.  But  if  I  lose  that  I  lose  my  immortality. 
It  must  be  another  being,  and  not  I,  who  does  not  love 
those  whom  I  have  loved.  So  the  divine  trusts,  pur- 
poses and  affections  I  have  entertained  here,  must  go 

•*•  7  O 

with  me  and  constitute  a  part  of  myself  there,  or  the 
immortality  would  be  a  beggarly,  naked  gift,  unworthy 
of  God  to  bestow,  or  any  developed  human  soul  to 
receive." 

"  But  what  then,"  I  asked,  "  of  the  undeveloped  and 
depraved,  who  could  carry  no  such  divine  conscious- 
ness with  them  ?" 

"  What  of  them,  dear  ?  The  same  sad,  mournful  case 
that  we  see  here — aggravated  by  the  loss  of  all  that 
they  have  called  pleasure  or  happiness  on  earth.  Con- 
ceive the  sensualist,  the  miser,  the  man  of  external 
ambition,  the  pleasure-seeker  in  any  direction,  the  being 
of  any  sort  whose  highest  good  has  been  material, 
turned  adrift  from  the  body  through  whose  senses  he 
has  enjoyed  this  good,  cut  off  from  passion,  from  the 
power  of  external  achievement,  from  the  animal  appe- 
tites, whose  gratification  he  has  lived  to  cultivate :  no 
more  lust,  no  more  conquest,  no  more  gain,  no  more  idle 
pomp  or  display  possible  to  him,  and  unfitted  for  any- 
thing but  these.  Can  you  imagine  a  keener  hell  than 
such  a  spirit  must  find  itself  in  until  it  is  developed  and 
educated  to  a  better  condition  ?  The  inexorable  fact  of 
identity  is,  I  believe,  the  most  fearful  penalty  of  such  a 
life — a  penalty  which  God  himself  cannot  avert  from  it, 
unless  he  would  break  the  law  of  cause  and  conse- 
quence, which  is  the  central  and  pervading  truth  of  the 
universe." 

"  Then  bad   or  subversive   relations  between   this 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  389 

life  and  the  future,  may  and  must  be  perpetuated  as 
well  as  good  and  helpful  ones." 

"Undoubtedly  they  may  and  are.  Only  bear  in 
mind  that  everywhere  in  the  dear  Father's  creation,  the 
dominant  tendencies  are  to  good.  Good  expands  and 
wars  with  evil  all  over  the  earth ;  first  to  contract  and 
imprison,  and  finally  to  destroy  it.  Among  the  humane 
peoples  this  is  the  battle  of  every  day  and  year ;  and 
the  victory,  in  the  long  run,  is  never  doubtful.  We 
know  in  the  morning  what  banner  shall  wave  over  the 
field  finally — if  not  on  the  first  night,  then  on  some 
other  that  will  come  after.  And  if  this  be  the  law  of 
this  sphere — the  lowest  that  we  know — can  we  con- 
ceive of  its  being  reversed  in  the  higher  ones  ?  Good 
and  bad  men  strive  together  here  to  accomplish  their 
opposing  purposes,  and  I  have  no  doubt  the  same  condi- 
tions pass  over  to  the  spirit  life ;  but  in  the  end  the 
good  unquestionably  triumphs  there  as  here." 

"  If  this  comfortable  view  be  the  true  one,"  said  I, 
"it  would  help  many  millions  of  unhappy  souls  to 
receive  it.  What  light  it  would  throw  on  hidden  and 
unaccountable  tendencies  which  we  find  in  the  hearts 
of  men." 

"  You  can  scarcely,  I  think,  over-estimate  its  value 
to  our  human  life,"  replied  Eleanore ;  "  and  its  clear 
and  unmistakable  coming  in  these  years,  proves  another 
sublime  and  uplifting  truth — the  fitness  of  progressed 
souls  to  receive  it.  We  are  justly  proud  of  our  discover- 
ies up  to  this  time,  of  our  inventions  and  the  emancipa- 
tion they  are  effecting ;  of  our  active  humanities,  which 
are  reaching  to  embrace  all  nations ;  of  our  expansive 
energies,  which  are  searching  out  and  reclaiming  the 
uttermost  lands ;  of  our  fearless  analysis  and  keen 
inquiry,  which  are  leveling  the  barriers  that  bigotry, 


390  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

prejudice,  and  even  science  herself  has  reared  in  the 
ages  that  are  gone,  and  making  one  the  hitherto  divided 
territories  of  our  thought  and  knowledge ;  but  all  these 
seem  to  me  only  the  fitting  and  beautiful  foundation  on 
which  this  crowning  truth  shall  plant  itself  between  the 
earth  and  heaven.  Do  you  find  anything  herein,"  she 
asked,  "  which  your  faith  and  reason  reject  ?" 

"  I  am  in .  conflict,  Eleanore,  with  respect  to  these 
very  things.  There  is  a  strong  conservative  vein  in 
me,  with  a  passable  capacity  for  progress  too,  I  believe. 
The  new  appeals  to  my  interest,  but  I  do  not  readily 
turn  away  from  the  old,  wherein  my  hopes  and  trusts 
have  been  garnered." 

"  Nor  need  you,  dear,  in  this  case.  Here  is  no  dogma 
which  conflicts  with  one  you  have  before  received. 
Here  is  no  arbitrary  assertion,  contradicting  another 
arbitrary  assertion  which  you  have  before  trusted.  It 
is  philosophy  and  religion  wedded,  which  have  before 
been  blindly  and  bitterly  divorced.  It  is  love  trans- 
lated by  wisdom — light  falling  from  higher  and  purer 
eyes  than  ours,  upon  the  clouded  fields  of  life — bloom 
and  radiance  descending  into  dark  and  rugged  vales  of 
fruitless  belief,  faith  stealing  noiselessly  into  the  infidel 
soul.  O  Anna,  I  feel  inspired  at  times  with  all  sorts 
of  courage  to  carry  this  light  to  the  souls  of  men  and 
women.  I  suppose  I  should  once,  with  this  zeal,  have 
made  a  missionary,  and  gone  off  to  some  remote,  be- 
nighted people,  to  teach  them  the  little  I  knew ;  but 
now  I  long  more  earnestly  to  bring  to  developed  minds 
the  truth  they  are  prepared  to  receive.  You  do  not 
think  me  straying,  I  hope,  from  the  quiet  paths  wherein 
I  have  won  your  confidence." 

"  No,  dear  Eleanore,  for  you  have  said  much  of  this 
before,  and  by  your  expressed  thought,  sent  me  a  long 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  391 

way  toward  these  conclusions  myself.  But  am  I  to 
infer  that  you  accept  in  their  length  and  breadth  the 
views  of  which  these  seem  to  be  a  part  ?  Would  you 
be  willing  to  be  called  a  Spiritualist  ?" 

"  I  should  be  willing  to  be  called  by  any  name  that 
would  truly  express  my  belief,  and  by  none  more  wil- 
lingly than  one  which  should  convey  to  myself  and 
others  the  assurance  that  I  had  sought  and  received  the 
highest  and  clearest  light  that  has  come  to  us  on  the 
grand  questions  of  the  Future.  I  accept  the  alleged 
phenomena,  so  far  as  I  am  acquainted  with  them,  as 
altogether  in  harmony  with  what  I  believe  of  human 
capacity  and  spiritual  power.  But  if  I  rightly  appre- 
hend their  bearing,  the  most  they  can  do  for  me,  is  to 
confirm  and  clear  foregone  conclusions." 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  them  of  such  vast  import- 
ance as  most  persons  do  who  give  any  heed  to  them." 

"  I  believe  they  may  import  much  to  our  religious 
life.  What  could  fail  to  do  so  that  should  be  proved 
to  be  absolute  truth,  bearing  upon  it  so  directly  and 
powerfully  ?  But  I  think  also  that  in  a  few  years  their 
occurrence  or  non-occurrence  will  be  matter  of  far  less 
consideration  than  it  is  at  present.  For  there  will  then 
have  been  developed  the  truths  of  which  they  are,  at 
most,  but  the  sign  or  vehicle,  and  having  brought  us 
those,  they  will  sink  into  comparative  insignificance. 
It  is  the  fate  of  the  phenomenal  portions  of  all  mixed 
subjects  of  our  investigation.  The  history  of  one  is 
that  of  all ;  for  material  phenomena,  however  they  may 
differ  in  other  bearings,  have  always  the  common  office 
of  developing  laws  to  man.  There  is  always  a  period 
of  war  before  the  laws  are  fully  demonstrated ;  but 
when  that  is  done,  the  facts  which  before  centred  all 
attention  and  provoked  all  bitterness,  are  quite  lost 


392  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

sight  of  by  advanced  minds.  If  you  want  an  instance, 
think  of  the  excitement  which  attended  Spurzheim's 
progress  in  this  country,  and  Gall  and  Mesmer's  in 
Europe.  Yet  now  all  intelligent  persons  accept  the 
laws  of  phrenology  and  of  animal  magnetism,  and  you 
could  scarcely  detain  an  enlightened  audience  while 
you  should  demonstrate  the  one  or  the  other  by  the 
most  startling  facts.  And  so  be  sure,  dear  Anna,  all 
these  wonders  that  we  hear  of,  and  which  now  fill  the 
broad  foreground  of  this  subject,  will  retire  as  the 
thought  they  appeal  to  is  more  and  more  developed, 
and  after  a  time  we  shall  scarcely  hear  mention  of 
them  among  intelligent  persons,  while  the  ideas  which 
are  their  flower  and  fruit,  will  carry  sweetness  and 
nurture  to  all  quick  and  hungering  souls.  And  as 
more  exalted  souls  among  us  place  themselves  in  har- 
mony with  conditions  which  we  shall  understand  bet- 
ter with  the  lapse  of  years,  higher  teachings  will  come. 
The  ascending  planes  of  reason  and  feeling  will  widen 
and  brighten  before  our  vision,  and  we  shall  receive  of 
those  uplifting  and  refining  influences,  what  our  ima- 
ginations scarcely  shadow  forth  now.  Oh,  I  behold 
majestic  continents  and  blooming  islands  in  that  Fu- 
ture to  which  I  look  for  humanity ;  fresh  kingdoms  of 
thought ;  mountain  chains  of  rugged  purpose ;  and 
aspirations  which  shall  rise  above  our  present  concep- 
tions as  those  pure  white  clouds  yonder  float  above  the 
reek  and  impurities  engendered  by  the  change  and 
decay  that  are  going  on  below  them.  Do  not  tell  me, 
dear  friend,  that  I  am  fanatical  or  extravagant.  I  feel 
this  as  clearly  as  I  feel  a  Future  beyond  to-day.  It  has 
been  the  hope  and  the  faith  of  souls  rising  heaven- 
ward, ever  since  Ideas  and  Facts  accumulated  into  the 
aggregate  Learning,  whose  mysterious  touch  unlocked 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  393 

and  expanded  the  inner  life  of  Magi  and  Seer,  and 
warmed  the  far-reaching  ambition  of  the  early  man  of 
science.  The  atheistic  Savan  is  the  product  of  our 
late  day  of  material  investigation.  His  period  will  be 
short — for  materialism  will  be  more  readily  displaced 
from  the  mind  instructed  in  the  works  of  God,  than 
from  one  chained  by  the  dogmas  of  Theology.  But  I 
see  I  am  tiring  you,  and  our  talk  has  outrun  the 
preacher's — for  there  come  the  people  from  church." 

At  that  moment  Phil,  who  had  been  picked  up 
below  by  Antonio,  came  rushing  into  the  room  with  a 
boisterous  joy,  and  so  ended  our  last  serious  and  ele- 
vated conversation,  till  we  should  meet  again. 

17* 


CHAPTER    XLYIII. 

There  was  yet  dinner,  and  about  three  hours'  time 
before  I  had  to  make  ready  for  starting  ;  but  the  one 
was  over,  with  pleasant  chat,  cordial  invitations,  and 
some  awkward  attempts  at  joking  on  the  desolation  to 
which  I  was  about  to  be  left ;  and  at  last  the  hours 
were  also  gone,  and,  satchel  in  hand,  I  went,  with 
heavy  steps  and  a  heavier  heart,  down  stairs,  where 
Mr.  Marsden  stood  awaiting  me. 

As  we  turned  into  Kearney  Street,  I  caught  her 
parting  signal.  "  And  that,"  I  said,  sadly,  "  is  the 
last  I  shall  see  of  her — forever,  perhaps." 

But  my  faith  and  the  remembrance  of  hers  rebuked 
my  doubting  heart.  I  put  a  few  dollars  into  Mr. 
Marsden's  hand,  with  special  instructions  how  to  spend 
it  in  presents  for  Phil  and  comforts  for  their  voyage  ; 
and  when  we  reached  the  boat,  I  went  by  myself,  and 
sat  down  to  indulge  my  feelings.  My  utmost  faith 
did  not  promise  me  another  such  soul.  I  had  lived 
forty  years  to  find  one,  and  I  could  not  hope  that  the 
future  would  be  richer  than  the  past.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  saw  its  poverty  more  plainly,  as  the  bitterest 
fast  is  that  which  follows  feasting. 

How  weary  and  dull  was  the  passage  home — the 
sleepless  night — the  arrival  and  the  opening  of  school 
next  morning.  I  seemed  then  to  be  working  merely  to 
live.  All  through  the  day  I  could  not  raise  a  hope  that 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  395 

overleapt  the  visible  and  near  boundaries  of  my  being. 
I  had  parted  with  so  much,  that  there  seemed  nothing 
worth  considering  left.  The  people  about  me,  at  other 
times  tolerable  or  even  pleasing  for  an  hour,  were  now 
intolerable.  I  was  like  a  despairing  lover,  and  I 
thought  at  night,  as  I  walked  about  my  small  room, 
how  much  strong  life  must  be  required  in  the  soul  of 
man  or  woman,  to  come  out  of  such  a  conflict  victor. 
I  thought  of  Col.  Anderson,  and  this  thought  gave  me 
a  feeling  of  relief,  for  I  could  sit  down  and  write  to 
him,  and  pour  myself  freely  out,  without  dread  of  being 
thought  absurd  or  foolish. 

I  told  him  all  that  had  passed ;  how  Phil  inquired 
for  him,  and  in  what  an  awful  tone  I  had  been  pro- 
hibited from  naming  the  person  who  could  bring  "  Tur- 
nel "  to  him ;  how  Eleanore  had  commanded  me  to 
send  him  the  letter  I  inclosed ;  and  last,  how  I  la- 
mented the  loss  of  such  a  guiding,  luminous  soul,  and 
felt  in  my  heart  I  must  follow  her  when  reason  and 
duty  would  suffer  me. 

Though,  according  to  my  promise,  I  could  not  send 
this  letter  for  several  days,  the  writing  was  good  for 
me.     I  slept  better  for  it,  and  woke  in  the  morning  to 
find  in  myself  more  resistance  and  courage  than  the 
evening  had  promised.     I  began  to  think  of  her  letters, 
^  though  it  would  be  long  before  one  could  come,  and 
1  even — so  elastic  is  the  struggling  soul — to  turn  at  mo- 
ments to  that  hope  of  meeting  we  had  both  talked  so 
confidently  of  realizing. 

But  I  shall  not  hinder  you  with  myself  and  my 
petty  affairs,  for  the  two  and  a  half  months  that  inter- 
vened till  I  heard  from  her.  When  the  great,  gener- 
ous letter  came,  I  felt  almost  as  if  she  were  herself 
there,  speaking  to  me — it  was  so  like  her.  She  began 
with  : 


396  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  Dates  are  my  abhorrence,  you  know,  Anna,  and 
you  are  not  to  expect  another  through  this  whole  jour- 
nal, unless  I  should  be  happily  inspired  with  one  some 
day  on  sitting  down  to  write.  This  is  our  fifth  day 
out.  It  was  very  rough  the  first  two,  and  poor  Phil 
and  I  suffered.  We  missed  our  old  shipmates  and 
attendants  sadly.  There  is  no  Ching  or  Antonio  here. 
By  the  way,  I  must  tell  you  that  poor  Antonio,  when 
we  came  away,  actually  broke  down  to  tears,  and 
drew  some  from  me,  too.  He  has  been  so  unfailing  in 
his  kindness  and  service,  and  so  entirely  modest — 
claiming  nothing  but  the  privilege  of  being  useful — 
that  I  was  moved  at  parting  from  him,  and  at  his 
distress  in  separating  from  Phil.  He  declared  he 
would  have  come  with  us,  if  only  he  had  known  it 
early  enough  to  have  asked  the  Colonel !  What  did 
this  mean  ?  I  was  very  glad,  then,  that  I  had  avoided 
saying  anything  to  him,  or  in  his  presence,  about  go- 
ing, till  the  day  before  we  sailed.  When  he  left  the 
ship,  he  told  Phil  he  would  come  to  Valparaiso  and  see 
him,  by-and-by ;  and  I  should  not  at  all  wonder  at 
his  finding  us  there  some  day — sailors  wander  about 
so,  you  know.  There  are  but  two  persons  on  this  side 
of  the  continent  whom  I  should  be  more  grateful  to 
see  in  a  land  of  strangers. 

"  But  I  was  telling  you  the  first  days  were  very 
rough.  And  how  miserable  we  all  were  !  Next  to  my 
room,  on  the  same  side,  are  a  merchant  and  his  wife, 
from  Valparaiso,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howe  ;  Maine  people, 
but  long  residents  of  Chili.  Mr.  Rowe  is  a  silent,  dig- 
nified man,  with  a  touch  of  pomposity  in  his  manners, 
and  a  refined  and  most  vigilant  courtesy.  He  is  fifty, 
I  should  say,  and  at  least  fifteen  years  older  than  his 
wife,  whom  he  loves  and  watches  as  I  do  Phil.  She 
is  a  woman  with  a  naturally  noble  heart,  I  am  sure. 
It  is  declared  in  her  countenance  and  bearing.  She  is 
bright  and  clever,  as  Yankee  women  are  apt  to  be,  but 
much  above  the  smart  level  they  are  so  proud  of. 
She  has  the  repose  and  polish  of  a  well-bred  woman, 
with  something  more  than  average  culture  in  certain 
directions.  On  her  book-shelves,  of  which  she  offered 
me  the  freedom  yesterday,  I  found  a  few  volumes  of 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  397 

choice  old  and  modern  literature ;  books  in  which  style 
goes  before  purpose,  and  elegance  is  perhaps  a  little 
more  earnestly  courted  than  truth  :  but  not  one  of  the 
characterizing  books  of  this  generation,  except  Currer 
Bell's  novels — none  of  the  progressive  poets — no  new 
philosophy  of  life  or  nature — none  of  the  master- 
thinkers. 

"  But  she  was  reading  '  Jane  Eyre,'  and  her  husband,' 
she  said,  was  trying  to  interest  himself  (think  of  that,)  in 
Shirley !  You  will  see  now  how  stately  and  courteous 
we  shall  be — how  we  shall  discuss  books  and  men, 
much,  I  fancy,  as  people  inspect  anatomical  museums : 
admiring  the  polish,  order,  and  arrangement,  but  find- 
ing no  heart. 

"  There  is  one  other  lady,  but  I  have  only  had  a 
passing  sight  of  her,  going,  with  the  help  of  a  gentle- 
man, to  her  room.  From  the  finical,  elaborate  exter- 
nal I  then  beheld — fluttering  head-gear,  ornate  dressing- 
gown,  and  wide  laces — I  do  not  look  for  much  internal 
life.  But  I  may  be  disappointed.  Sensible  and  genu- 
ine women  do  sometimes  go  fearfully  in  debt  to  such 
accessories — I  wonder  with  what  result,  on  the  whole, 
to  themselves  and  beholders. 

"  There  are  but  two  other  passengers — both  Span- 
ish gentlemen — Senor  Pedrillo  and  Don  Rafael,  I  hear 
them  called.  I  have  scarcely  seen  them,  except  to  dis- 
tinguish the  portly,  middle-aged  Senor,  from  the  hand- 
some, melancholy  young.  Don.  You  shall  have  them 
another  day.  Phil  wishes  he  could  see  Miss  Warren 
to-night ;  so  do  I. 

" That   mark,    Anna,   indicates    that    this 

writing  is  on  another  day — next  days,  as  Phil  says ; 
all  days  after  any  certain  one  that  he  remembers,  are 
next  days,  you  know,  to  him.  Well,  this  next  day  is 
rainy  and  windy,  so  you  must  patiently  decipher  what 
follows,  and  distribute  the  extra  strokes  of  the  w's,  m's, 
n's,  and  u's,  as  best  you  can.  The  ship  and  sea  are 
both  in  such  an  unfriendly  mood,  that  I  do  not  know 
if  I  should  write  at  all,  but  that  I  love  a  victory,  and 
there  being  no  larger  one  possible,  I  accept  this. 

"  Our  Don  Rafael  is  a  Troubadour,  misplaced  by 


398  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

about  four  centuries.  Oh,  that  you  could  hear  his 
guitar,  when  the  evenings  are  still,  and  his  tender 
voice — it  is  really  a  very  sweet,  though  rather  a  wail- 
ing tenor — singing  of  love  and  heroism !  He  has 
abundant  raven  curls,  a  clear  olive  color,  an  exquisite 
mustache,  and  a  most  patrician  foot  and  hand.  Don 
Rafael,  I  think,  must  take  high  rank  among  Castilian 
beaux,  but  as  he  speaks  very  little  English,  and  I  no 
Spanish,  we  are  not  likely,  I  fear,  to  furnish  each  other 
very  correct  data  for  nice  judgment  in  these  matters. 
He  is  punctilious  in  all  manner  of  politeness  to  Mrs. 
Brent — her,  to  wit,  of  the  elaborate  toilet,  whose  hus- 
band's partner  he  is.  He  elevates  courtesy  toward  her 
into  an  art,  and  devotes  himself  heroically  to  its  culti- 
vation. At  table,  on  deck,  in  the  cabin,  at  the  door 
of  her  state-room,  with  solemn  face  and  grave  gesture, 
he  informs  her,  '  Madam,  I  am  your  servant ;  honor 
me  with  your  commands.'  And  you  will  see  the  cour- 
age with  which  this  is  done,  when  I  tell  you  that  she 
sits  down  in  the  cabin,  arrayed  in  brocade  and  dia- 
monds, awaiting  dinner,  and  actually  horrifies  our  little 
convention  there,  by  cleaning  her  nails  !  You  think 
now  it  is  sweetly  done  with  a  little  gem  of  a  knife, 
which  she  twirls  so  deftly  in  her  jeweled  fingers,  that 
we  have  to  guess  at  what  she  is  really  doing ;  and  you 
are,  perhaps,  impatient  with  me  for  noting  so  trifling 
and  pardonable  an  impropriety.  No  such  thing,  dear 
Anna.  She  draws  from  her  pocket  a  bowie-knife,  with 
a  spring  in  the  .back  ;  presses  it  till  the  blade  flies 
open,  and  then  she  has  in  her  hand  a  weapon,  at  the 
very  least  six  inches  long.  With  this  elegant  instru- 
ment she  proceeds  to  the  duties  in  which  Lord  Chester- 
field instructed  his  son  so  carefully,  and  generally 
prolongs  their  performance  till  dinner  is  placed  on  the 
table.  But  Don  Rafael  would  go  overboard,  I  think, 
before  he  would  let  those  thunderous  eyes  of  his  (did 
you  ever  hear  of  such  eyes  ?)  emit  a  ray  of  surprise  or 
wonder.  Don  Rafael  faces  the  bowie-knife,  when  seats 
are  to  be  taken,  and  solemnly  offers  his  arm  for  the 
step  between  her  and  her  place,  with  a  true  air  which 
says,  '  I  suffer  no  thought,  still  less  comment.'  I  ad- 
mire this  in  him  very  much. 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  399 

"  You  may  say  it  is  suggestive  of  that  old  story  of 
Cervantes',  who  put  heroism  and  gallantry  on  horse- 
back, and  carried  them  to  the  wars,  to  prove  them- 
selves against  the  world  ;  but  I  like  it.  One  so  seldom 
sees  among  us  this  sort  of  social  courage.  What  young 
American  exquisite  could  bring  himself  to  such  tho- 
rough and  sustained  politeness  to  a  vulgar  woman? 
If  he  were  constrained  to  it  by  her  fortune  or  position, 
he  would  protest  by  looks,  shrugs,  or  gestures,  to  all 
beholders,  that  he  understood  and  scorned  it  as  much 
as  they  could.  Be  sure  Don  Quixotte  was  a  representa- 
tive man. 

" Our  Captain  is  a  harsh,  unpolished  per- 
son, whom  we  scarcely  see  except  in  passing  him.  He 
sits  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table,  which  is  not  a  long 
one,  certainly :  but  that  position  cuts  him  off  from  us 
socially.  Mr.  Howe  occupies  the  seat  of  honor,  and  as 
it  would  not  do  to  place  the  rich  Mrs.  Brent  third  on 
either  side,  Phil  and  I  are  seated  next  to  Mrs.  Howe, 
and  opposite  the  bowie-knife.  Next  to  me  is  the  Senor 
Pedrillo,  who  speaks  tolerable  English,  and  has  facts 
and  anecdotes,  but  no  thoughts.  Our  property  in 
these,  such  as  it  is,  falls  chiefly  between  Mrs.  Rowe 
and  myself — the  husband  occasionally,  in  our  chats, 
tugging  at  the  cable  by  which  he  keeps  her  safely  an- 
chored. 

u  We  were  talking  of  '  Jane  Eyre,'  after  she  had 
finished  reading  it.  She  liked  the  book,  but  was  a 
little  timid  about  Jane's  declaring  herself,  as  she  did,  to 
Mr.  Rochester,  in  the  garden. 

"  ;  What  would  you  have  had  her  do?'  I  asked. 
'  She  thoroughly  respected  her  own  sentiment  toward 
him.  It  was  delicate,  sacred,  and  womanly.  Why 
should  she  not,  under  the  circumstances,  express  it  ?' 

"  '  It  wras  so  unusual.' 

"  '  Yes,'  I  admitted,  '  but  not  therefore  necessarily 
wrong.  We  ought  to  distinguish  between  what  offends 
the  sense  of  custom  and  the  sense  of  nature.' 

"  *  Certainly  ;  but  she  believed  it  was  in  the  nature 
of  woman  to  be  sought,  rather  than  to  seek.  Did 
not  I?' 


400  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  '  Undoubtedly ;  that  law  was  written  too  plainly 
everywhere,  to  be  mistaken.  But  in  the  position  por- 
trayed in  "  Jane  Eyre,"  I  did  not  conceive  it  to  be  in- 
fringed. True,  Mr.  Rochester  had  not  declared  in 
words  that  he  desired  Jane's  love,  but  he  had  expressed 
it  plainly  otherwise ;  and  had  piqued  her  possible  sen- 
timent for  him,  quite  enough,  I  thought,  to  entitle  her 
to  speak.  If  he  had  been  a  coxcomb  or  flirt,  and  yet 
had  succeeded  so  far,  as,  being  a  true  man,  he  had,  in 
winning  her  affection,  it  would  have  been  her  grief  and 
misfortune  to  have  disclosed  herself  to  him.  But  such 
things  often  happen  to  men,  and  heartless  women  deck 
themselves  with  conquests  as  foolishly  and  meanly  as 
he  could  have  worn  hers,  had  he  been  unworthy  her 
confidence  and  courage.  I  like  just  that  in  the  book,' 
I  said,  warmly.  i  It  is  a  true  and  honest  word  from  a 
woman  for  her  sex.  I  thank  her  for  it.' 

"  4  If  she  confessed  her  love  before  she  was  properly 
asked  to,'  said  Mr.  Rowe,  taking  a  fresh  turn  on  the 
cable,  '  I  think  it  was  indelicate  and — unworthy — of — 
her — sex.' 

"  Now,  you  know,  dear  Anna,  that  I  do  sometimes 
warm  unduly,  especially  in  strife  with  pretentious  fools. 
I  felt  a  hot  flush  go  over  me — stupid,  was  it  not  ? — and 
I  looked  at  him,  but  did  not  speak  on  the  instant. 

"  '  I  meant  no  offense,  Mrs.  Bromfield,'  he  said,  in 
a  ponderous  tone  of  apology. 

"  '  Oh,  I  have  taken  none,  I  assure  you,'  was  my 
reply.  '  You  have  not  read  the  book,  I  think,  by  your 
own  remark,  and  therefore  cannot  know  whether  you 
really  differ  from  me  or  not.' 

"  Of  course  Mrs.  Rowe  had  nothing  more  to  say  on 
that  subject,  and  so  we  went  to  common-places.  But  I 
really  like  her.  If  only  she  wouldn't  fold  the  pinions 
of  her  mind  so  meekly  under  the  breast  of  this  over- 
shadowing— 

" Perhaps  it  was  fortunate,  Anna,  that  I 

was  called  away  by  an  outcry  from  Phil  at  the  very 
last  word.  You  will  never  know  now  which  of  the 
terms  in  natural  history,  that  would  have  been  in  some 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  401 

measure  adequate  to  my  feelings,  I  should  have  applied 
to  our  respectable  and  praiseworthy  Mr.  Howe.  If 
ever  you  undertake  a  eulogy  of  me,  either  before  or 
after  my  death,  never  write  me  as  respectable  or 
praiseworthy.  I  despise  them  both,  dear.  If  there  is 
nothing  to  be  said  of  me  but  that  I  am  respectable,  or 
of  my  work  but  that  it  is  praiseworthy,  I  pray  that 
both  I  and  it  may  escape  comment,  and  so  be  blest,  if 
not  any  otherwise. 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you,  however,  that  to-day  I 
asked  Mrs.  Rowe  if  she  knew  the  lady  to  whom  I  am 
taking  a  letter  of  introduction,  and  on  whom  my  hopes 
chiefly  depend,  in  Valparaiso.  She  is  a  Spanish  lady, 
living  just  out  of  the  city,  and  very  likely,  my  ac- 
quaintance in  San  Francisco  thought,  to  employ  me 
herself,  on  her  introduction.  To  my  great  gratification, 
I  found  that  Mrs.  R.  knows  and  esteems  her  highly. 
Her  husband  holds  an  important  office  under  the  gov- 
ernment, and  in  social  position  they  rank  among  the 
first  families  in  the  country.  So  far,  therefore,  1  am 
favored  above  my  expectations.  I  wish  I  may  find  the 
promise  of  my  advent  there  realizable,  because  in  that 
case  I  should  probably  sooner  turn  away  from  my  good 
fortune  to  my  best.  But  I  studiously  avoid  indulging 
thoughts  of  that. 

" Dear  Anna — foolish,  care-taking  sister — 

how  could  you  do  it  ?  I  told  you  I  did  not  want  the 
money,  and  here,  to-day,  I  have  found  it,  where  it  was 
smuggled  into  my  trunk.  You  ought  to  be  scolded 
soundly,  and  I  ought  to  do  it  with  a  relish  ;  but,  some- 
how, when  I  think  of  your  pains-taking  and  persistency 
in  this  thing,  I  find  my  eyes  dim,  and  I  say,  '  The 
dear,  tender  soul,  I  will  not  accuse  her  of  her  too  great 
goodness.'  But,  in  truth,  you  ought  not  to  have  done 
it.  I  shall  feel  worried  till  I  hear  from  you,  lest  by 
some  calamity  you  may  have  been  made  to  regret  your 
generosity.  I  shall  be  rich  enough  some  day,  I  hope, 
to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  repaying  it  as  I  wish.  Then 
you  shall  see.  But,  ah,  that  future  !  what  a  prodigal 
it  is  !  what  a  debt  is  always  accumulating  in  it  to  the 
present  and  past ! 


402  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  Poor,  darling  Phil,  is  chiefly  dependent  on  me  in 
this  voyage,  and  he  sometimes  complains  of  the  lean- 
ness of  his  fortunes  in  that  respect,  in  very  touching 
style.  Last  evening,  for  instance,  he  was  resting  on 
my  knee,  as  I  sat  up  on  deck  (we  are  in  five  or  six  de- 
grees south  latitude  to-day,  and  it  is,  of  course,  very 
warm,)  when  he  said,  suddenly,  but  very  confidentially : 
4  Mamma,  I  don't  love  this  Captain — do  you  ?' 

"  '  No,  darling  ;  but  he  is  a  good  Captain.' 

"  '  Well,  then,  why  don't  he  talk  to  us,  like  Captain 

?'  (you  remember  the  inimitable  sound  which 

represents  to  him  that  good  Dahlgren) ;  '  why  don't  he, 
mamma?'  he  urged. 

"  '  Because,  Phil,  he  is  not  so  kind  a  man.'  I  did 
not  know  what  else  to  answer  the  child. 

" '  And  he  don't  have  so  good  mens  on  his  ship, 
neither,'  said  he.  '  There  isn't  any  Turn  el  here,  nor 
Mr.  Darf,  nor  Antonio — nobody  but  you,  mamma  dear, 
that  I  love.' 

"  i  Why,  my  darling,'  I  said,  '  Mrs.  Rowe  is  very 
kind  to  you,  I  am  sure.' 

"  <  But  I  don't  love  her,  though.' 

"  '  Isn't  that  a  little  naughty  ?'  I  asked. 

"  '  NoJ  he  answered,  with  the  utmost  non  chalance. 
1  She  don't  make  me.' 

"  That  will  do,  I  thought,  as  I  took  him  closer  to 
my  heart.  He  has  the  true  stamp  on  his  child-soul — 
only  it  must  be  carefully  wrought  out  by  generous 
training,  to  make  it  nobleness  instead  of  selfishness  in 
the  man. 

"Dear  little  Harry  had  already,  I  think,  shown 
signs  of  right  growth  in  his  affections,  and  I  have  little 
care  for  Phil,  except  that  he,  perhaps,  is  more  decidedly 
like  myself,  and  that  I  know  how  near  I  can,  and 
sometimes,  I  fear,  do  come,  to  being  willful  and  selfish 
in  their  indulgence  or  denial. 

"  I  have  been  sad  all  day,  and  am  almost  irre- 
sistibly inclined  to  weep  this  evening.  The  burden 
of  the  past  descends  heavily  on  my  soul,  at  times,  in 
these  tropical  airs  and  sunsets,  which  are  so  like  those 
we  breathed  and  saw  in  our  days  of  suffering.  The 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  403 

thought  of  that  unapproachable  grave  is  very  sad  to 
me,  dear  Anna,  notwithstanding  my  strong  hold  on  the 
future  :  for  the  affections  of  earth  cling  to  earth,  and 
are  only  uplifted  in  the  hours  of  our  highest  victories. 

"  —  -  It  is  a  long  time  since  my  last  writing, 
dear  friend,  and  we  are  now,  it  is  thought,  within  a 
week  or  ten  days  of  our  destination.  It  begins  to  seem 
a  momentous  thing  to  land  in  a  foreign  city,  alone, 
and  look  for  a  home  among  strangers.  I  do  be- 
lieve, Anna,  that  it  was  not  intended  women  should 
be  alone.  If  there  were  one  here  now,  whose  strong 
arm  would  fence  off  the  bustling  world,  and  surround 
me  with  peace  and  trust  for  this  strife  and  anxiety,  how 
different  would  life  look ! 

"  Mrs.  Brent  asked  me  this  morning,  when  we  were 
speaking  of  our  arrival,  if  I  had  friends  in  Valparaiso ; 
and  when  I  answered  no,  she  asked  further :  '  Are  you 
going  to  settle  there  V 

"  '  Possibly,'  I  replied. 

"  And  I  suppose  I  ought  to  prize  the  testimony  she 
immediately  bore  to  something  in  me — it  was  not  my 
fortune  certainly — in  giving  me  her  card,  and  a  pressing 
invitation  to  visit  her :  or  was  it'  possibly  that  she 
might  display  her  house,  which  she  said  was  very  ele- 
gantly furnished?  Her  husband  had  bought  two  of 
the  beautifullest  statters  when  he  was  in  France  the 
last  time,  and  she  had  one  in  the  hall  and  one  in  the 
back  parlor. 

" Three  days  more,  they  say,  Anna ;  and  I 

confess  to  some  trepidation.  Oh,  that  you  were  al- 
ready there  to  welcome  me !  It  is  such  a  weary  thing 
to  be  alone.  Phil  is  in  good  spirits  and  health  since 
we  have  left  the  very  warm  latitudes,  and  in  joyful  an- 
ticipation of  going  ashore ;  Mrs.  Howe  tells  me  that  I 
can  get  into  a  good  American  boarding-house,  at  a  very 
moderate  expense  ;  trifling  indeed,  it  seems,  compared 
with  our  California  scale  of  costs  ;  and  it  had  need  be, 
if  I  remain  long  unemployed.  Your  loan  is  a  blessed 
comfort  in  my  greatest  anxieties — 'though  still  I  scarcely 
forgive  you  the  clandestine  manner  of  it." 


404:  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

The  next  date  was  from  the  Hotel  du  Nord,  on  the 
clay  of  her  landing  : 

"  I  have  been  here  only  two  hours,  dear  Anna,  but 
the  mail  for  Panama  closes  at  one;  it  is  now  past 
twelve,  and  I  cannot  let  you  wait  a  whole  fortnight 
longer  for  these  sheets. 

"  Of  course  I  have  nothing  to  say  but  that  the  first 
impression  of  the  city,  as  I  have  seen  it  between  the 
Mole  and  this  house,  is  very  different  from  !San  Fran- 
cisco ;  and  by  all  the  difference  pleasanter  to  my  feel- 
ings. I  contrasted  this  landing  with  ours  there.  No- 
body stares  ;  nobody  rushes  against  you  ;  there  is  the 
due  proportion  of  women  ;  the  houses  do  not  look  like 
the  work  of  yesterday ;  the  irregularities  are  suggestive 
of  other  things  than  extreme  youth  and  newness ;  and, 
in  short,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  like  it.  I  shall 
drive  out  this  afternoon  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Signorita 
Senano,  and,  as  I  have  so  many  first  things  to  do,  I 
shall  say  adieu,  dear  Anna,  till  a  fortnight  hence. 

ELEANORE." 

"  Phil  is  at  the  window,  quite  captivated  by  the 
gayly-dressed  women  and  the  '  queer  men.' ' 


CHAPTEK    XLIX. 

Now  there  must  at  least  a  fortnight  pass  before  I 
could  hear  of  her  again.  Col.  Anderson's  first  note  to 
me  after  the  news  of  her  sailing,  was  an  unbroken  re- 
joicing :  "  I  would  so  much  rather  meet  her,"  he  said, 
"  in  an  older  country  than  this  ;  she  belongs  to  a  ma- 
ture society ;  and,  poor  and  unimportant  as  Chili  is, 
its  cities  have  the  social  features  which  age  alone  can 
give.  I  have,  happily,  some  friends  of  influence  there, 
and  you  may  judge  I  shall  feel  a  pride  in  showing  them 
such  a  woman  as  Eleanore,  were  it  only  as  an  acquaint- 
ance. The  work  which  I  am  asked  to  put  a  hand  to 
there,  may  occupy  me,  if  I  undertake  it,  two  years  or 
more ;  and  I  think  I  see  the  finger  of  Providence,  as 
a  revered  clerical  friend  of  mine  would  say,  in  her  pre- 
ceding me.  I  fear  she  never  would  have  followed — the 
unmanageable  one !  1  .shall  be  only  a  short  two 
months  behind  her." 

I  was  glad  of  all  this,  yet  I  felt  I  should  be  much 
more  alone  when  he  was  gone.  In  their  happiness, 
should  not  I  be  forgotten  ?  I  asked  myself,  with  a  mo- 
mentary return  of  the  bitterness  which  Eleanore  had 
treated  so  wisely  and  lovingly  in  my  last  visit. 

My  school  increased  rapidly,  till  I  was  obliged  to 
seek  a  larger  house  and  employ  an  assistant.  I  was 
prospering,  but  I  was  lonely  and  sad,  and  yearning 
for  the  companionship  that  had  uplifted  and  enlarged 


406  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

my  nature,  more  than  I  fully  knew  till  I  was  deprived 
of  it. 

I  wrote  to  Col.  Anderson  that  Eleanore  had  asked 
me  to  come  to  her  if  she  found  it  advisable,  and  that  I 
should  be  ready,  I  believed,  any  day  after  six  months 
were  passed. 

I  had  resolutely  determined  to  abide  by  my  present 
interests  for  that  period,  with  close  economy,  and  then 
,to  secure  what  I  should  have  accumulated  at  loan, 
where  it  would  increase  rapidly  and  safely,  and  follow 
my  heart.  So  much  punishment  I  would  endure ; 
after  that,  it  should  be  something  else. 

Col.  Anderson  wrote  me  the  day  he  sailed  from 
San  Francisco  in  high  hope : 

"  I  have  undertaken  many  voyages,"  lie  said,  "  in 
the  course  of  my  life,  but  never  such  a  hope  beckoned 
me  as  now.  Oh,  Miss  Warren,  if  by  any  chance  it 
could  be  again  destroyed,  never  ask  for  me.  Farewell. 
You  will  next  hear  of  me  either  as  the  happiest  or  most 
hopeless  of  men.  J.  L.  A." 

Eleanore's  next  letter  was  her  Journal  continued. 
She  had  visited  Signorita  Senano,  and  received  some 
encouragement  that,  in  a  month  or  so,  they  might  wish 
themselves  to  employ  a  governess.  They  had  one  now 
on  trial,  but  doubted  if  they  should  like  her : 

"  And  I  thought  the  doubt  very  irrational,"  said 
Eleanore,  "  when  she  passed  through  the  room. 
A  dowdier  or  more  lifeless  looking  creature  I  never 
saw  so  far  from  home.  I  am  ashamed  to  say  she  was 
a  New  Yorker,  too — lymphatic,  careless  in  her  person, 
and  possessed  of  but  one  single  charm  that  I  could  dis- 
cover :  an  exquisite  complexion. 

"  My  conversation  was  carried  on  through  an  inter- 
preter, the  nephew  of  Senora,  who  had  been  at  school 
in  Baltimore,  and  returned  about  two  months  before. 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  407 

When  I  asked  if  they  would  employ  a  governess  who 
could  speak  no  Spanish,  I  was  assured  that  they  de- 
sired one  who  could  not  or  would  not  speak  a  word  in 
their  house  but  pure  English.  '  We  wish  our  children 
to  become  perfect  in  your  language,'  said  the  Senora, 
i  and  we  think  that  the  best  means  of  securing  our 
object.' 

"  Then — thought  I — the  governess  will  have  no 
trifling  task,  if  the  children  are  to  be  turned  upon  her 
hands,  and  all  her  casual  talk  with  them  is  to  be  in- 
struction for  a  special  object ;  and  her  time  will  hang 
heavily,  if  she  is  to  speak  no  English  but  to  them. 

"  I  inquired  of  the  youth  if  any  one  in  the  house 
spoke  it  beside  himself,  and  was  told  his  uncle  did,  but 
not  very  freely.  When  I  left,  I  was  to  call  again,  at 
my  convenience — in  two  or  three  weeks,  if  I  did  not 
engage  elsewhere. 

"  The  incumbent  of  the  position  I  aspire  to  has  held 
it  but  four  days,  and  they  wish  to  give  her  a  fair  trial, 
which  Senora  justly  thought  could  scarce  be  done  in 
less  than  a  month. 

"  Phil,  who  had  stood  by  my  knee  during  the  inter- 
view, and,  between  the  strangeness  of  the  house,  the 
confusion  of  tongues,  and  the  grave,  impressive  manner 
of  the  speakers,  had  been  unable  to  understand  the  pur- 
port of  any  thing,  trotted  gladly  out  by  my  side  when  I  had 
taken  leave;  and,  after  we  were  seated  in  the  carriage — 
which  is  a  large,  clumsy  chaise,  with  a  driver's  seat  in 
front,  called  here  a  veloche — he  delivered  his  opinion 
uncalled  for,  in  the  sententious  words :  '  I  believe  those 
folks  are  naughty  folks — don't  you,  mamma  ?' 

"  '  Why,  Phi'l  ?' 

"  Betause  they  look  so  dark — and  they  don't  laugh 
any.' 

Three  days  later : 

"  I  have  left  the  hotel,  dear  Anna,  and  am  now  very 
nicely  established  in  the  boarding-house  I  mentioned. 
We  have  a  beautiful,  large  room,  overlooking  the  har- 
bor and  city — not  so  precipitously  as  ours  at  the  Mars- 
den  house,  but  very  charmingly ;  and  if  I  had  only 


408  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

you  coming  and  going,  and  work  enough  to  pay  the 
way,  I  should  rest  well  for  awhile.  I  hope  some  note 
or  letter  is  on  the  way  to  me,  dear,  with  yours.  Has  lie 
written  to  me  at  San  Francisco,  possibly  ?  And  will 
you  order  the  letter  here,  if  he  has  ?  How  I  should  be 
gladdened  at  sight  of  it ! 

" The  first  delight  of  this  country  to  my 

eye,  Anna,  as  it  would  be  to  yours,  is  the  lavish  profu- 
sion of  its  beautiful  flowers.  They  riot  everywhere  in 
the  fertile  spots — upon  the  low  hill-sides  and  in  the  little 
valleys,  where  the  treasure  of  the  rainy  season,  which 
is  yet  scarcely  over,  remains  longest.  Wherever  a  foot 
of  earth  has  seed  dropped  upon  it,  or  a  root  set,  there 
is  a  plant  sure  to  grow,  and  such  flowering  as  it  does 
you  never  saw.  Do  you  remember  the  dear  little  song 
for  children,  '  Wildwood  Flowers,'  which  I  sing  some- 
times for  Phil  ?  It  is  bubbling  from  my  lips  all  the 
time  I  am  walking  here,  when  we  get  beyond  the  pave- 
ments. 

"As  yet  I  have  only  seen  the  surrounding  country 
from  the  city,  which  lies  along  the  seashore  and  ram- 
bles back  among  the  irregular,  barren  red  hills  that 
shut  it  in,  in  the  queerest  ways  imaginable.  I  have 
seen  some  of  these  little  suburbs,  populous  with  chil- 
dren and  donkeys,  and  washerwomen  who  never  em- 
ploy fire  in  their  cleansing  processes,  and  who  set 
themselves  quietly  down  by  some  stream,  and  seem  to 
me  to  be  depending  chiefly  upon  time  to  accomplish  their 
tasks,  so  very  unhurried  are  all  their  movements. 

"  The  whole  people  are  cursed  with  contentment. 
The  chief  amusement  of  all  who  can  afford  amusement 
off  their  own  feet,  is  riding — think  how  my  skill  will 
avail  me — and  they  claim  that  they  have  the  finest 
saddle-horses  out  of  Arabia.  Some  of  them,  certainly, 
are  beautiful  animals,  but  their  beauty  is  less  prized 
than  their  ease,  fleetness,  and  endurance.  They  are 
truly  wonderful  in  the  last-mentioned  quality. 

"  Phil  and  I  are  very  apt  to  walk  out  in 
the  clear,  breezy  mornings,  over  the  grotesque, 
lawless  hills,  or  to  the  open  beach  of  the  great  blue, 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  409 

indolent  sea.  They  say  it  can  be  very  fierce  when 
the  wild  north  wind  comes  down  upon  it,  but  it 
has  worn  a  perpetual  smile  to  us.  It  lies  along  the 
shore,  just  palpitating  to  the  dalliance  of  the  wooing 
air,  and  registering  its  tides  upon  the  pure  white  sands 
— the  impersonation  of  grand  repose.  Phil  says  it  is 
such  a  nice  sea,  and  he  hopes  it  will  bring  Turnel  and 
Miss  Warren,  some  day. 

"  We  get  indifferent  oranges,  but  delicious  straw- 
berries, in  the  fruit-market,  which  we  visit  almost 
every  day ;  and  here  is  also  the  chirimoya,  a  fruit  of 
exceeding  richness  and  indescribable  taste.  More  del- 
icate than  a  cream  custard,  it  has  the  flavor  of  the 
strawberry,  pineapple,  and  peach,  blended  into  one, 
and  enlivened  with  the  subtlest  of  the  Indian  spices. 
It  is  an  apple  which  Eve  might  have  been  forgiven  for 
tasting  the  second  time.  This  fruit  comes  from  Peru, 
and  is  not  abundant :  a  fact  for  which  one  cares  less, 
than  if  other  fruits  and  vegetables,  which  might  be  al- 
most called  such,  were  less  plenty  than  they  are. 
Phil's  favorite  is  the  sweet  potato.  Led  captive  by 
that  esculent,  he  has  given  in  his  allegiance  to  this  re- 
public, and  would  look  calmly  forward  to  spending  his 
days  here,  if  we  had  you  and  the 'Turn el,' or  perhaps 
either  of  you. 

"  I  met  Mrs.  Howe  yesterday,  who  showed  a  genu- 
ine pleasure  at  seeing  us,  and  inquired  where  she 
could  call  on  me.  She  told  rue  she  had  visited  Se- 
nora  Senano,  the  other  day,  and  found  her  looking 
anxiously  for  my  second  call,  not  knowing  where  to 
find  me,  but  earnestly  hoping  I  had  not  engaged  to  any 
one. 

"  So  the  lymphatic  girl  would  not  do,  and  I  can 
have  the  place.  Shall  I  go,  I  wonder?  I  think  I 
shall,  not  having  seen  any  more  satisfactory  person 
among  four  who  have  answered  my  advertisement 
for  a  situation. 

"  You  will  see  most  strikingly  the  difference  be- 
tween this  and  any  of  our  l^orth  American  cities,  in 
two  facts.  There  are  but  two  book-stores  here,  and 
three  newspapers,  all  of  which,  put  into  one  sheet,  would 
18 


4:10  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

not  equal  one  of  our  large  ones.  Two  are  printed  in 
Spanish,  the  other  in  English,  and  they  furnish  a  popu- 
lation of  almost  a  hundred  thousand. 

" I  was  interrupted   yesterday  by   a  cal  1 , 

which  proved  to  be  from  my  patron  and  future  em 
ployer,  the  Senora,  accompanied  by  her  husband,  \vlio, 
it   seems,   is    sufficiently   interested    in   his    children 
to  steal  a  moment  from  public  cares  to  choose  their 
instructor. 

"  I  was  glad  to  be  able  to  speak  directly  with  him  ; 
and,  not  to  till  my  paper  with  details  of  all  the  solemn 
questions  and  answers,  and  interpretations  to  Madame, 
which  could  not  much  interest  you,  I  will  tell  you  at 
once  that  I  have  engaged  to  go  to  them  at  the  end  of 
ten  days — to  have  a  servant  at  my  own  and  the  chil- 
dren's disposal,  and  a  large  room  for  my  own  and 
Phil's  exclusive  occupation,  when  not  engaged  with 
them.  • 

"  The  young  people  are  three  in  number — two  boys, 
of  ten  and  eight,  and  a  girl  of  seven.  These  people 
seem  to  believe  in  the  saving  presence  of  children,  for 
when  I  spoke  of  Phil  as  a  possible  difficulty,  they  came 
nearer  laughing  than  on  any  other  occasion,  and  pro- 
tested that  he  would  be  as  welcome  as  their  own. 

"  So  now  I  am  independent  again,  I  shall  take  in 
large  measures  of  peace  and  rest  in  the  next  ten  days. 
By  the  way,  they  insisted  on  my  pay  beginning  at 
once,  and  we  quarreled  with  grave  politeness  for  n've 
minutes,  making  set  speeches  at  each  other  about  it, 
but  at  last  I  prevailed. 

"  I  wish  now,  dear  Anna,  that  you  were  here  in  the 
next  family.  "What  delightful  talks  we  could  have  in 
these  moonlit  nights  !  They  are  as  bright  as  we  ever 
saw  in  California,  and  the  flowers  bloom  more  abun- 
dantly, making  the  air  faint  with  their  blending 
odors. 

"  This  morning  a  card  of  invitation  came  from  Mrs. 
Howe,  who  will  receive  company  tomorrow  evening. 
Of  course  I  sent  an  excuse — not  a  polite,  but  a  real 
one :  thanks  for  her  consideration,  which  was  felt  as 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  411 

most  friendly  and  kind,  but  I  could  not  enter  a  circle, 
where,  very  shortly,  I  should  have  no  place.  I  do  not 
mean  to  be  patronized,  Anna,  and  though  it  may  be 
there  was  no  such  feeling  in  this  good  lady's  heart, 
there  would  be  in  that  of  the  next  woman  who  should 
perhaps  make  up  her  mind  to  invite  me.  I  can  see  that 
the  social  lines  are  sharply  drawn  here,  and  I  will  not 
be  the  one  to  break  into  the  sacred  inclosure  of  good 
society.  Therefore  you  will  get  no  gossip  in  my 
letters." 

A  month  later  came  this  : 

"  My  last  letter,  Anna,  was  taken  to  the  post  too 
late,  and  came  back  to  me  at  evening.  It  was  of  little 
interest,  and  therefore  I  reserve  it.  It  merely  an- 
nounced to  you  that  I  was  then  but  a  few  days  here, 
and  just  getting  through  the  preliminary  steps  of  my 
reign.  Did  I  do  wrong,  I  wonder,  in  not  telling  these 
people  I  had  never  filled  such  a  post  before  ?  I  cer- 
tainly do  not  understand  its  details  as  I  should  if  I 
were  experienced,  but  I  believe  I  shall,  nevertheless,  be 
able  to  do  them  service  which  will  be  an  equivalent 
for  the  salary  I  receive. 

"  I  am  more  than  thankful  that  my  pupils  interest 
me.  Pedro,  the  eldest,  is  a  bright  boy,  with  a  full 
measure  of  childhood  in  him — hearty  and  jolly  ;  aston- 
ishingly so,  I  thought,  till  I  saw  the  mother  in  her 
family  circle,  unbent  from  the  awful  dignity  of  re- 
ception ;  and  since  that  pleasant  sight,  Phil  feels  much 
more  at  home,  as  well  as  I.  lie  has  even  met  her 
half-way,  and  suffered  a  kiss  or  two.  Francisco,  the 
next,  is  a  graver  and  more  thoughtful  child  than  Pe- 
dro, with  a  finer  organization  in  all  respects,  firmer 
and  more  compact  body,  and  superior  head.  He  takes 
decidedly  to  me,  and  will  improve  rapidly,  I  believe. 

"  Clara,  the  daughter,  is  a  nice,  quiet  little  tiling, 
very  affectionate  and  clinging,  drooping  about  her 
mother  and  brothers,  when  they  are  near  her,  and  re- 
garding Phil  and  me  occasionally,  with  her  soft,  liquid 
eyes,  as  if  she  would  like  to  be  assured  that  we  were 


412  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

among  the  number  upon  whom  she  could  venture  to 
fasten.  She  has  the  Spanish  slowness  in  trusting,  and 
her  mother  tells  me  she  did  not  get  accustomed  to  my 
predecessor  so  as  ever  to  approach  her  without  con- 
straint. I  hope  I  shall  do  better  with  her. 

" I  find  myself  rather  a  tutor  than  governess 

here,  Anna.  My  labors  are  chiefly  confined  to  the  school- 
room, and  when  I  have  done  with  the  children  there, 
Josepha,  our  maid,  is  very  apt  to  take  them  all  away 
where  I  do  not  see  them  again  till  dinner-time.  I  let 
Phil  run  quite  freely,  since  he  seems  very  happy  among 
them,  and  a  child  of  his  years  can  have  no  better  occu- 
pation, for  at  least  half  his  waking  hours,  than  running 
and  tumbling  on  the  earth.  To  be  sure  he  comes  in 
an  example  of  dirtiness  that  is  fearful  to  behold,  but 
that  is  soon  remedied,  for  we  luxuriate,  Anna,  in  the 
abundance  of  washed  clothes".  They  come  from  the 
laundry  three  times  a  week,  white  and  pure  as  snow, 
well  ironed,  and  every  manner  of  garment  starched 
throughout.  Think  of  the  lavishness  of  this  proceed- 
ing. I  allowed  myself  a  little  pricking  of  conscience 
about  it  at  first,  thinking  that  the  laundry  woman 
would  perhaps  be  over-burdened  by  my  self-indulgence 
in  this  respect ;  but  Josepha  smiled  when  I  conveyed 
the  idea  to  her,  half  in  Spanish,  and  half  in  the  few 
words  of  English  she  has  picked  up  in  the  school-room 
and  elsewhere,  and  told  me  that  there  was  mucha 
mujer — I  can  never  forgive  the  Spanish  that  ungrace- 
ful term  for  our  woman — in  the  wash-house.  I  made 
a  journey  thither  shortly  after  on  pretense  of  searching 
for  Phil  and  Clara,  who  were  missing  at  the  moment, 
and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  there  two  great,  jolly, 
contented-looking  women,  working  easily  through  the 
task  before  them,  with  a  young  girl  of  thirteen  or  four- 
teen, the  daughter  of  one,  to  do  the  lighter  parts.  The 
wages  of  these  servants  are  low,  and  household  econo- 
my is  a  problem  which  has  not  yet,  I  think,  invaded 
the  peace  of  the  Spanish  brain,  anywhere  in  America. 
You  remember  that  Spanish  family  we  used  to  see  at 
the  Marsdens,  and  how  little  the  item  of  expense  was 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  413 

considered  by  them.  Well,  these  people  show  the 
same  indifference  to  it  in  a  greater  degree.  So  I  have 
discharged  my  mind  of  all  concern  in  the  direction  of 
the  laundry. 

" The  Casa  Senano,  where  I  sit  at  this  pres- 
ent writing,  stands  in  a  dear  little  emerald  valley, 
sparkling  with  gardens,  and  hung  upon  the  verdant 
hill-sides  with  roses,  and  flowering  vines  and  shrubs, 
whose  fragrance  falls  down  with  the  evening  dews,  and 
blends  with  that  of  our  more  stately  cultivated  beau- 
ties. The  want  I  feel  is  of  forest  trees.  Here  are  only 
shrubs,  large  or  small.  The  house  is  of  the  common 
style  of  Spanish  American  countries — an  adobe — of  a 
single  story,  with  deep  corridors,  darkening  the  rooms, 
and  severely  parallelogramic  in  form.  I  believe  a 
Spaniard  could  not  have  an  addition  made  to  his  house. 
If  compelled  to  enlarge  it,  he  would  either  tear  down 
and  build  anew,  or  put  detached  rooms  near  the  old  one. 

"  Our  school-room  is  a  modern  branching  out  of  the 
Senano  estate  in  this  fashion — a  large  apartment  that 
would  be  ample  at  home  for  thirty  scholars ;  its  walls 
very  smoothly  plastered,  and  not  less  than  thirty  inches 
in  thickness.  There  are  in  it  but  two  or  three  articles 
of  furniture  beside  the  few  in  daily  use  ;  yet  its  naked 
walls  and  wide  vacant  floor  have  really  never,  looked 
barren  or  cheerless  to  me.  The  light  and  the  pure  air ; 
the  odors  of  the  garden  which  surrounds  it,  and  the 
babble  of  the  slender  brooklet  that  falls  over  the  root 
of  a  dark,  leafy  olive,  before  my  window,  are  all  so 
beautiful  and  friendly  that  I  cannot  feel  the  place  in 
the  least  degree  desolate.  I  furnish  each  table  every 
morning  with  a  tiny  cup  of  flowers,  and  my  own  with 
two,  one  of  which  consists  of  rose-buds  only.  La 
Signorita  walks  in  once  or  twice  a  day  and  looks 
happily  over  her  little  ones,  strokes  Phil's  curls  with 
her  gentle  matronly  hand,  and  giving  me  a  bright 
glance,  passes  out.  I  like  her,  and  I  think  she  likes 
me  possibly  a  little,  apart  from  the  contentment  she 
feels  in  my  management  of  her  children ;  but  I  see  lit- 
tle of  her  elsewhere. 


4:14  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  There  is  often  company  at  dinner,  and  I  generally 
on  those  days  take  mine  with  the  children.  Some- 
times the  guests  are  all  Spanish,  and  then  I  don't  mind 
sitting  at  the  table — for  I  am  not  expected  to  speak  or 
understand ;  but  at  other  times  there  are  American  or 
English  visitors,  and  these  I  prefer  not  seeing. 

"  There  is  to  be  such  a  cofnpany  to-day,  and  I  have 
asked  La  Signorita  to  send  me  and  the  children  out  for 
a  drive  to  the  Zorros,  a  little  blooming  valley  five 
miles  from  the  city,  where  we  have  been  twice  in  the 
family  coach.  You  would  laugh  to  see  this  vehicle, 
Anna.  It  is  a  sort  of  Noah's  Ark  on  wheels;  the 
hugest,  most  lumbering,  heavy,  ill-conditioned,  groan- 
ing thing  you  ever  saw  put  to  any  use.  You  would 
laugh  at  the  si^ht  of  it,  and  still  more  to  see  me  get 
gravely  into  it,  followed  by  all  these  dark-eyed  children 
in  their  fullest  glee,  and  go  rumbling  and  creaking 
away,  behind  a  pair  of  fat  philosophical  mules,  with  a 
nondescript  hortibre  mounted  on  one,  and  whipping 
both  with  might  and  main.  A  more  ridiculous  tout- 
ensemble  than  we  are,  in  the  run-away  pace  he  at 
length  gets  them  wrought  up  to,  you  could  not  find  in 
a  year's  journeying,  I  am  sure.  Here  is  Phil  come  to 
tell  me  '  coach  ready,  mamma.  Put  on  my  poncho.' 

" When  I  came  back  from  the  ride  yesterday, 

dear  Anna,  I  wTas  surprised  on  entering  the  house  to 
find  a  party  of  gentlemen  just  issuing  from  the  dining- 
room.  We  had  been  gone  four  hours,  and  as  dinner 
was  just  about  to  be  served  when  we  left,  I  thought 
they  would  be  assembled  in  the  smoking-room,  as  I 
call  it,  though  I  suppose  it  would  be  a  drawing-room 
anywhere  else,  and  therefore  I  was  a  little  startled  on 
dashing  in  my  usual  headlong  way,  into  the  broad  hall, 
to  find  myself  suddenly  almost  in  the  middle  of  a  group 
of  men  with  flushed  faces,  some  of  whom  regarded  me 
with  bold,  impudent  looks,  and  actually  hindered  my 
instant  progress  to  the  door  of  my  room.  They  were 
following  their  host,  who  had  already  entered  the  apart- 
ment he  was  leading  them  to,  and  was  therefore  not  in 
sight  when  I  raised  my  eyes  to  look  for  him. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  415 

" c  (Test  Madame  la  Gouvemante,'  said  one,  in  a 
voice  and  speech  not  of  the  clearest. 

"  '  Madame  ou  Madamoiselle  ?'  asked  another ;  but 
I  had  reached  my  door  and  closed  it  just  as  the  last 
words  were  uttered,  and  so  did  not  hear  what  brought 
forth  the  great  laugh  that  instantly  followed.  Some- 
thing I  was  sure  that  it  was  better  1  had  not  heard,  for 
1  was  already  flushed  and  blazing  with  the  looks  and 
tones  which  had  failed  to  provoke  their  drunken  mirth 
to  that  degree.  I  stood  a  moment  before  I  could 
remove  my  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  thought  how  I 
should  like  to  launch  a  look  and  half  a  dozen  words  at 
the  boldest  of  them,  a  snobbish  looking  creature  named 
Byfield,  all  hair  and  beard,  who  had  planted  himself 
directly  in  my  way,  and  compelled  me  to  go  aside  to 
pass  him. 

"  I  had  seen  this  man  two  or  three  times  before  at 
the  house,  and  had  more  than  once  been  secretly  en- 
raged at  civilities  he  had  pressed  upon  me,  and  which 
I  would  gladly  have  scorned,  but  for  want  of  an  excuse 
to  affront  a  guest  where  I  was  a  dependent.  But  this 
was  his  first  open  rudeness,  and  though  his  miserable 
head  was  doubtless  a  little  turned  with  the  wine  he 
had  taken,  I  now  reflected  with  a  rage  which  shook  me 
all  over,  that  his  previous  overtures  had  perhaps  been 
preparing  the  way  for  something  of  this  sort. 

"  I  had  to  go  out  again  immediately  to  look  after 
the  children  and  get  Phil  in  to  prepare  him  for  bed — 
for  the  moon  was  alreacly  outshining  the  faint  golden 
light  in  the  west.  As  I  passed  the  open  door  of  the 
apartment  where  they  were  assembled,  I  heard  a  voice 
say,  in  drawling,  affected  tones, i  Dayv'lish  taking  eye, 
Hamilton,  isn't  it  ?' 

"  I  did  not  hear  the  reply ;  but  my  heart-beat  sent 
arrows  along  my  veins  at  the  words.  There  is  no  other 
door  to  my  room ;  so  that  I  am  obliged  to  pass  and  re- 
pass  this  one  of  the  drawing-room,  every  time  I  enter 
or  leave  it.  It  is  the  only  annoyance  of  the  sort  that  I 
feel  here  ;  but  it  was  never  serious  until  this  time — for 
I  had  never  before  met  a  rude  visitor  in  the  house. 

"  After  Phil  was  in  bed,  I  stole  softly  out,  thinking 


41(5  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

to  pass  unobserved  into  the  garden,  and  walk  off  the 
unhappy  excitement  of  my  mind.  They  were  still 
smoking,  and  I  suppose  drinking ;  but  I  did  not  turn 
my  eyes  to  see.  I  passed,  flying  rather  than  walking, 
out  at  the  open  door,  through  the  small  yard,  and  into 
the  flower-garden  surrounding  the  school-house.  This 
is  a  spot  where  I  have  always  been  free  from  intrusion. 
No  stranger  ever  enters  it,  and  even  the  family  seem 
to  hold  it  sacred  to  me  and  my  pupils.  My  heart  was 
very  full  of  wounded  pride  and  pain,  and  intense  long- 
ing for  the  presence  of  the  strong  and  manly  soul  that 
would  make  good  my  position  against  these  light  speak- 
ers. After  two  or  three  turns  up  and  down  the  clear 
path  by  the  brookside,  I  sat  down  and  leant  against  the 
trunk  of  the  olive  tree,  where  I  could  hold  my  hand  in 
the  little  stream  and  toy  with  its  pure,  cool  current.  I 
believe  I  should  have  been  weeping  but  for  the  kindly 
presence  of  this  unconscious  companion  of  my  loneli- 
ness, when  a  voice  startled  me,  and  looking  up,  I  saw 
beyond  the  shadow  of  the  branches,  that  same  face, 
with  its  hair  and  must  ache,  which  had  most  palpably 
affronted  me  within.  '  Fine  evening,'  he  said,  advanc- 
ing slowly ;  '  day v'lish  fine  moonlight  here,  for  tender 
hearts.' 

"  I  did  not  speak.  It  was  not  so  much,  perhaps, 
that  I  thought  it  wisest  to  be  silent,  as  that  I  could  not. 
All  the  life  in  me  seemed  to  be  gathering  itself  up  for 
a  deadly  thrust.  He  came  very  slowly  a  little  nearer, 
just  under  the  low  boughs,  and  hesitating  there,  said, 
4 1  saw  you  leave  the  house,  my  dear,  and  I  thought 
you  would  be  glad  of  some  company.  Come,  take  my 
arm,  and  let  us  walk  about  a  little,  and  he  reached  his 
hand  down  toward  me.  I  did  not  move  a  finger ;  but 
I  spoke,  and  my  first  words  w^ere,  '  Leave  this  garden, 
sir  !'  They  were  delivered  like  rifle-balls,  I  know — for 
I  felt  as  though  if  each  one  were  a  deadly  weapon, 
I  could  have  hurled  them  at  him  the  same.  He 
seemed  to  be  thrown  back  a  moment  by  them  ;  but  his 
impudence  soon  rallied  itself  again,  and  he  bent  slightly 
toward  ine,  saying,  i  Ah  !  now  don't  be  so  savage  on  a 
poor  fellow,  that  hasn't  seen  such  bright  eyes  or  such 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

tempting  lips  since  he  left  England.  Come  into  the 
light  at  least,  where  I  can  see  you,  if  you  are  going  to 
fight  f  and  he  actually  touched  my  shoulder  with  his 
vile  hand,  which  I  instantly  spurned,  with  a  shudder 
that  I  now  feel  again,  in  thinking  of  it. 

" '  Touch  me  again  at  your  peril,  base,  unmanly 
wretch,'  said  I.  '  Are  you  so  low  that  you  do  not 
know  a  lady  from  a  wanton  ?  Leave  this  garden  at 
once,  or  I  will  call  on  some  gentleman  to  put  you  out 
of  it!' 

"  <  Call,  then,'  he  said,  laughing  thickly.  <  I  don't 
think  any  of  them  will  come.' 

" '  But  there  are  servants  that  will,'  said  I,  and  per- 
haps it  would  be  more  fitting  that  such  as  you  should 
be  handled  by  them.'  I  felt  a  little  nervous  after  his 
defiance — for  the  thought  flashed  across  me,  the  other 
guests  may  be  gone,  or,  though  I  had  never  before  seen 
anything  like  intoxication  here,  they  may  be  too  drunk 
to  heed  my  call.  But  in  a  moment  I  reflected  that 
however  this  might  be,  the  servants  could  be  relied  on. 
and  were  nearer  to  me  than  the  others,  and  then  I 
determined  to  remain.  I  wished  to  feel  that  I  could 
repel  this  insulting  intruder,  and  not  be  driven  from 
my  place.  As  I  kept  my  seat,  he  also  sat  down  at  a 
little  distance  from  me,  arm's  length,  perhaps. 

"  '  Come,  my  fair  Sylvia,'  he  said,  4  let  us  be  a  little 
more  social  and  pleasant.  The  world  goes  on  all  the 
same ;  it  is  better  to  enjoy  the  hours  as  they  fly,'  and  he 
began  to  sing,  in  a  low,  thick  voice,  broken  lines  of 
some  of  Moore's  most  execrable  songs.  I  drew  up  my 
handkerchief  and  struck  him  sharply  with  it  across  his 
mouth.  4  Be  silent,  sir !'  I  said,  '  and  hear  me.' 

" i  Certainly,  with  pleasure.  Now  you  are  growing 
reasonable.' 

"  '  ~No  nearer,'  I  said,  seeing  that  he  was  inclining 
to  move  toward  me.  i  This  inclosure,'  I  continued,  i  is 
set  apart  for  the  use  and  pleasure  of  your  host's  child- 
ren and  their  teacher.  IN  o  one  beside  ever  enters  it 
but  upon  necessity,  and  I  came  here  to-night,  feeling 
insulted  and  unhappy,  in  the  house,  where  you  and 
your  band  of  drunken  companions  were  assembled.  I 
18* 


418  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

t 

came  to  be  alone ;  but  yon  have  chosen  to  invade  this 
privacy,  and  yon  choose  to  remain,  although  you  know 
that  in  doing  so,  you  outrage  my  right  and  my  choice, 
and  because  I  am  a  woman,  with  too  feeble  an  arm  to 
hurl  you  to  the  earth  and  throw  you  over  the  wall  af- 
terward, I  am  compelled  to  leave  you  here,  in  a  place 
that  will  be  made  hateful  by  the  recollection  of  your 
presence  in  it.' 

"  I  rose  with  the  last  word,  and  walked  with  a 
quick  step  through  the  gate  and  into  the  house.  They 
were  talking  loudly  as  I  passed  the  guests'  room,  and  I 
heard  the  names  of  parties  and  party-leaders,  mixed 
with  praise  and  censure,  all  going  on  together,  till  I 
closed  my  door  behind  me. 

"Oh  Anna,  how  humiliated  and  outraged  I  felt. 
How  much  I  needed  a  tender  and  strong  soul  to  come 
tome  then,  and  how  self-accusingly  I  thought  of  the 
one  that  might  have  been  my  shield,  and  of  the  grand 
strength  and  sufficient  protection  he  would  throw 
around  any  woman  whom  he  should  see  wronged.  I 
heard  but  little  more  of  the  visitors,  and  after  a  long 
watching  and  thinking  by  the  open  window,  I  at  last 
went  to  bed  as  the  light  of  the  setting  moon  began  to 
stream  in  across  the  banks  of  gay-colored  and  odorous 
flowers  before  my  window." 


CHAPTEE  L. 

This  letter  made  me  anxious.  It  seemed  an  evil 
omen  thrown  across  her  path.  I  knew  better  than  she, 
that  depraved,  base  men  rarely  come  off  worse  in  such 
an  encounter,  without  seeking  to  avenge  themselves  in 
some  way  upon  those  who  have  defeated  them.  I 
dreaded  that  there  would  yet  be  consequences  of  this 
meeting,  of  which  she  did  not  seem  to  dream.  But 
whatever  may  happen,  Col.  Anderson  will  soon  be 
there,  I  said,  and  she  will  not  then  lack  worldly  wisdom 
and  protection.  A  whole  month  went  by  before  I 
received  another  letter.  I  grew  very  anxious,  and 
could  not  shake  off  my  fears,  and  I  counted  the  time 
yet  left  to  the  term  of  my  probation,  and  even  thought 
of  the  possibility  of  going  to  her  before,  if  it  should 
seem  needful.  I  became  more  and  more  convinced 
with  every  passing  month  how  she  had  grown  into  my 
heart,  like  a  daughter  or  cherished  younger  sister ;  and 
as  I  had  neither,  and  stood  almost  alone  in  the  world, 
I  determined  upon  adopting  her  in  place  of  both,  and 
thereby  stilling  the  conflict  of  mind  I  sometimes  suffered 
at  the  thought  of  abandoning  personal  interests  for  my 
attachment. 

At  last  it  came — the  looked-for  letter.  And  true 
and  well-grounded  enough  had  my  fears  been  !  This 
was  written  all  under  one  date,  with  due  observance  of 
tlie  formalities  of  place,  year,  and  day.  It  was  even 


420  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

addressed  to  me  as  "  Dear  Friend."  I  was  startled  by 
a  glance  at  this  unusual  physiognomy  of  her  first  page, 
and  thought  something  must  have  happened,  surely,  to 
have  brought  her  to  all  this. 

Here  is  what  she  said  after  the  "  Dear  Friend  "  : 

"  I  did  not  write  you  by  the  last  mail,  for  I  had 
only  that  to  tell  which  would  have  pained  you  to  read, 
could  I  have  commanded  myself  to  write  it.  But  I 
think  it  would  have  been  almost  as  easy  to  have  held 
one  of  my  hands  in  the  flames.  I  hope  you  have  re- 
ceived the  letter  I  sent  a  month  ago,  else  all  I  shall 
write  nowr  will  be  a  riddle  to  you.  Assuming  that  you 
will  understand  it,  however,  I  shall  go  on  to  relate  the 
sequel  of  the  affair,  which  began,  and  I  then  thought, 
ended  there. 

"  You  will  remember  the  person  named  Byh'eld, 
who  was  referred  to  there.  Well,  I  have  seen  him 
once  since,  and  that  is  likely,  I  think,  to  be  the  last  of 
our  acquaintance.  He  followed  into  the  house  after  I 
came  from  the  garden  that  night,  and  before  he  left  it, 
threw  out  to  his  companion,  Hamilton,  some  insinua- 
tions of  having  had  a  '  delightful  half-hour  in  the  garden 
with  that  demmed  fine  crechure,  the  governess.'  An 
old  American  gentleman,  who  was  present  and  heard 
all,  afterward  told  me  the  whole  story.  At  the  time, 
he  knew  nothing  of  me,  and  only  heard  his  boasts  with 
disgust  toward  himself — not  knowing,  however,  but 
they  were  true.  He  and  Hamilton  talked  it  over — 
they  were  the  young  men  of  the  party,  and  perhaps 
felt  an  obligation  to  sustain  a  reputation  for  wicked- 
ness becoming  their  years — and  whether  or  not  the 
latter  was  deceived,  or  merely  lent  himself  to  Byfield's 
baseness,  they  kept  it  sounding  till  it  reached  the  ear 
of  the  dignified  Senor  Senano,  whose  dignity  was  that 
evening  increased  by  the  wine  he  had  drunk,  and  the 
consciousness  of  playing  the  host  to  a  party  of  promi- 
nent men — important  persons  in  the  political  field. 

"  Senor  Senano,  after  a  week's  meditation,  commu- 
nicated the  unpleasant  tidings  to  his  carasposa — I  can 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  421 

be  pleasant  about  it,  now,  Anna,  for  I  have  fought  my 
way  into  clear  sunshine  again — and  she,with  the  circum- 
spection that  became  a  mother,  and  with  something  of 
shrewdness,  too,  which  I  do  not  quite  envy  her,  watched 
me  through  another  whole  week  in  profound  silence, 
the  two  trying  my  equanimity  at  table,  occasionally, 
with  a  chance  mention  of  Mr.  Byfield. 

"  I  do  not  at  best  live  near  to  these  people,  Anna.. 
They  have  trusted  me  fully,  and  with  apparent  satisfac- 
tion, in  the  management  of  their  children  ;  but  I  see 
very  little  of  them  except  at  table,  where  the  husband 
exchanges  solemn  courtesies  with  me,  and  the  wife 
smiles  and  utters  two  or  three  sentences  during  the 
meal,  in  mixed  English  and  Spanish,  to  which  I  re- 
spond, measuring  my  speech  by  hers,  and  there  we 
stop.  But  in  these  days  I  felt  something  like  the 
shadow  of  a  cloud  in  a  chilly  day,  when  you  court  the 
sunshine,  fall  between  me  and  them.  I  thought — per- 
haps the  political  currents  do  not  set  right ;  the  hus- 
band is  anxious,  and  the  wife  participates  his  cares. 
The  idea  did  not  once  occur  to  me  that  their  changed 
demeanor  had  anything  to  do  with  myself,  and  if  it 
had,  I  should  not  have  dreamed  of  this  particular  affair 
as  connected  with  it.  I  had  been  insulted  grossly  by  a 
guest  in  their  house,  but  had  defended  myself  as  effi- 
ciently as  words  and  scorn  could  do  it ;  and  the  possi- 
bility of  the  outrage  being  turned  to  my  injury,  was 
quite  beyond  the  reach  of  my  unsuspicious  thoughts. 

"  On  the  morning,  however,  after  the  week's  sup- 
pression of  herself,  Signorita  Senano  came  into  my 
sitting-room,  with  her  nephew,  who  had  been  absent 
during  my  whole  stay,  and  formally  requested  a  pri- 
vate interview  with  me.  As  there  was  no  one  present 
but  ourselves,  I  signified  my  instant  readiness,  sup- 
posing she  wished  to  say  something  respecting  the 
children. 

"  Judge,  dear  friend,  of  my  horror,  astonishment, 
and  rage,  at  rinding  myself  the  subject  of  an  accusation 
so  dreadful.  When  it  was  stated,  I  could  only  utter 
the  words,  '  The  base  liar  !'  which  she  understood  or 
guessed  from  my  face  and  eyes,  may  be,  without  inter- 
pretation. 


422  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  '  He  was  my  husband's  guest,'  was  the  dignified 
and  cutting  reply. 

"  '  If  he  were  your  husband  himself,'  I  said,  rashly, 
1  he  would  be  no  less  a  liar,  saying  that.  Oh,  Madam,' 
I  continued,  seeing  her  looks  darken  at  this,  to  her,  un- 
usual demonstration  from  a  woman — for  these  women 
are  respected  only  so  far  as  the^y  are  watched,  and 
therefore  do  not  dream  of  our  daring  self-respect — oh, 
Madam,  this  man  is  false  and  base  and  unutterably 
mean.  I  will  tell  you.' 

"  And  I  did,  all,  word  for  word,  Anna,  as  well  as  I 
could  remember,  just  as  it  happened.  My  face  gave 
edge  and  keenness  to  the  stolid  interpretation  of  my 
words,  and  she  at  last  promised  to  bring  him  and 
Hamilton  to  the  house  once  more,  and  give  me  the  op- 
portunity to  meet  him  face  to  face.  1  had  to  entreat 
hard  and  long  for  this,  but  I  prevailed,  and  you  shall 
hear  how  the  meeting  came  off. 

"  They  were  specially  invited,  with  the  husband's 
consent — which  I  thanked  him  in  my  soul  for  giving — 
for  the  third  evening  from  that  of  this  interview.  It 
was  to  be  an  after-dinner  visit.  Heaven  only  knows 
what  they  expected,  for  the  invitation  was  the  rarest 
of  possibilities.  But  whatever  they  anticipated,  it  was 
something  very  different  from  what  they  found.  One 
could  not  fail  to  see  that.  La  Signorita  gave  up  the 
conduct  of  the  affair  to  me,  only  undertaking  to  receive 
them  till  I  should  appear ;  and  Don  Alexandro,  the 
husband,  had,  I  think,  but  an  imperfect  idea  of  my 
purpose,  till  it  appeared  before  his  astonished  eyes. 
I  had  fretted  so  intensely  in  the  interim,  that  I  believe 
I  was,  and  still  am,  lighter  by  many  pounds  than  I  was 
a  fortnight  ago. 

"  When  the  gentlemen  were  announced,  I  was  in 
my  own  room,  and  I  waited  there  a  few  minutes,  that 
first  ceremonies  might  be  over  in  the  parlor  and  my 
courage  drilled  for  the  encounter.  Then  I  entered, 
and  pausing  just  within  the  door,  near  where  Mr.  By- 
field  sat,  nursing  alternately  with  great  complacency  his 
leg  and  his  beard,  I  said :  '  This,  I  believe,  is  Mr. 
Bytield  f 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  423 

" i  Yes,'  was  the  answer,  with  a  strong  stare  of  as- 
tonishment —genuine,  made-up  English  astonishment. 

"  '  And  this  Mr.  Hamilton  ?' — turning  toward  that 
gentleman. 

"  l  Yes ' — with  a  modified  stare,  followed  by  a  black 
scowl. 

"  I  then  closed  the  door,  and  so  seated  myself  that 
it  could  not  be  opened  without  my  rising ;  for  I  saw, 
Anna,  that  this  was  just  the  man  to  run  from  my  at- 
tack, on  the  plea  that  he  would  not  be  insulted  by  a 
low  creature-— a  mere  governess. 

" '  Both  you  gentlemen,'  I  said,  as  I  was  doing 
this,  4  were  guests  of  Senor  Senano,  at  a  dinner  party, 
some  days  since.  Mr.  By  field,  have  the  goodness  to 
look  at  me,  if  you  please  ;  what  I  am  going  to  say  will 
particularly  interest  you.  On  the  evening  I  speak  of, 
you  first  faced  me,  a  lady,  who  had  always  shunned 
you,  very  rudely,  in  the  hall — here,  between  this  and 
the  next  door;  afterward  you  followed  me,  when  I 
went  away  in  the  private  garden  alone,  and  basely  in- 
sulted me — so  basely,  that,  had  any  man  been  near,  not 
to  say  a  gentleman,  or  friend  of  mine,  you  would  have 
been  knocked  down  and  tumbled  into  the  water,  as 
you  deserved  to  be.  You  repeated  the  insult,  when  I 
repelled  you  with  all  the  energy  that  language  and  a 
burning  indignation  gave  me;  you  touched  my  shoul- 
der with  that  vile  hand  that  now  lies  upon  your  knee, 
and  I  spurned  it  with  such  an  involuntary  shudder  as 
one  feels  when  a  loathsome  reptile  crawls  upon  the 
person  ;  and  when  you  sat  down  not  very  close  to  me 
—by  your  brute  strength  keeping  the  place  I  could  not 
remove  you  from — I  left  you,  with  a  scorn  which  I 
then  thought  could  not  be  exceeded,  but  which  your 
base  falsehood  about  this  meeting  has  multiplied  a 
hundred-fold.  Is  not  this  true,  every  word  ?'  I  asked, 
rising,  and  walking  quickly  toward  him,  my  hands  in- 
voluntarily clenched  at  my  sides  ;  i  is  it  not,  sir  ?' 

"  i  Yes,'  he  rather  gasped  than  said.  His  face  was 
as  bloodless  as  my  own  by  this  time. 

"  '  And  can  you,  with  truth,  say  one  word  to  my  in- 
jury, touching  that  dastardly  deed  of  yours?  D.<1  I 


424:  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

not  come  in  as  untainted  and  blameless  as  you  could 
wish  your  sister  or  your  wife — if  there  is  such  an  un- 
fortunate woman  in  the  world — to  come  from  such  an 
encounter?' 

"  '  Y-a-a-s — I  believe — though — ' 

"  i  And  you  acknowledge  that  the  boasts  you  made, 
and  which  it  sets  my  blood  on  fire  to  think  of,  were 
false — were  they  not  ?'  and  with  the  words,  I  compelled 
him  to  look  into  my  eyes. 

"  *  Y-a-a-s — just  a — bit  of — joking,  you  know.' 

"  It  was  all  done  very  quickly,  Anna — not  occupy- 
ing one-quarter,  scarcely  one-eighth  of  the  time  I  am 
writing  it  to  you,  for  the  man,  you  see,  was  so  arrant 
a  coward,  morally,  that  he  surrendered  at  once,  and 
certified  his  own  meanness  in  the  most  damning  way. 
I  could  scarcely  stand  when  it  was  over,  but  I  braced 
myself  afresh  for  a  moment,  and  turned  to  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton-—who  sat,  looking  both  paler  and  blacker  than 
before. 

"  '  Sir,'  I  said,  '  you  have  heard  your  friend's  con- 
fession. You  also  heard,  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  circu- 
lated his  falsehood.  I  ask  you  now,  as  a  gentleman, 
loving  justice — as  a  man,  recognizing  the  claims  of 
those  who  are  wronged  and  unable  to  protect  them- 
selves— to  do  me  justice  in  this  matter,  at  least  as  far 
as  you  may  have  done  me  injustice.  Senor  Senano,  I 
will  see  you  when  these  persons  have  taken  leave.' 

"  And,  with  a  bow  to  La  Signorita,  I  left  the  room, 
and  rushed  to  my  own  ;  but  oh,  dear  Anna,  what  a 
battle  I  had  fought  with  myself,  as  well  as  with  that 
base  creature !  I  shivered  from  head  to  foot,  though 
the  evening  was  warm.  Chill  after  chill  went  coursing 
along  my  relaxed  nerves,  indicating  to  what  tension 
they  had  been  wrought.  I  sat  down  and  folded  a 
large  shawl  about  me. 

c"  Presently  I  heard  their  feet  and  voices  in  the  hall ; 
then  they  were  gone,  and  in  a  moment  La  Signorita 
tapped  at  my  door.  When  I  opened  it,  she  stood 
smiling,  and  actually  took  both  my  hands  in  hers. 
This  was  approval  I  did  not  at  all  expect.  It  melted 
me  at  once  from  my  previous  purpose  of  leaving  them. 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  425 

She  invited  me  to  the  parlor,  where  Don  Alexandro 
also  shook  my  hand,  and  said  :  '  Very  good — very 
good  ;  you  have  one  strong  heart,  Signorita.  Very 
lady.' 

"  I  looked  inquiringly  at  him,  not  knowing  exactly 
what  the  last  words  might  mean. 

"  '  Very — what  yon  call  it  ? — lady — lady — 

"  '  Ah,  lady-like,  you  mean,'  I  said,  more  pleased  at 
that  than  anything  else  they  had  said. 

"  '  Yes,'  he  replied,  '  very  lady-like.  We  like  it 
much.' 

"  I  was  so  glad  not  to  have  offended  their  taste  or 
forfeited  their  respect  for  me  as  a  conventional  woman, 
that  I  sat  down  and  told  them,  like  a  pleased  child, 
how  hard  it  had  been  for  me — how  cold  I  felt  at  first, 
and  still  was,  as  my  hand  proved ;  and  how,  before  the 
kindness  of  this  moment,  I  had  determined  to  leave 
them  as  soon  as  I  had  proved  myself  clear  of  this  bad 
man's  accusation  ;  but  now,  if  they  desired  it,  I  was 
disposed  to  remain. 

"  So  it  was  all  settled,  and  I  went  to  my  bed  with 
a  happier  heart  than  I  had  possessed  for  many  days, 
but  a  dreadfully  weary  body  and  brain. 

"  I  have  been  here  now  almost  two  months,  and  I 
begin  to  look  for  Col.  Anderson  with  every  ship.  In 
your  last  letter,  you  said  he  wrote  that  he  would  be 
scarcely  two  months  behind  me.  How  soon  will  you 
come,  dear  ?  I  shall  want  you  as  much  after  that  mo- 
mentous event  as  before ;  for  to  whom  shall  I  tell  all 
my  happiness,  if  you  are  not  here  ? 

"  Phil  sends  a  deal  of  love  to  you,  and  he  has  just 
brought,  he  says,  a  great  lot  from  Clara,  who  has  heard 
of  you,  and  believes  that  she  should  love  you  very 
much.  Ever  your  faithful  ELEANORE." 


CHAPTER  LI. 

I  read  this  letter  many  times  over,  and  fancied  I 
could  see  Eleanore  extorting,  with  her  daring  eyes  and 
intense  gestures,  that  degrading  confession  from  her 
cowardly  defamer. 

He  had  spread  it,  too,  I'll  warrant — said  I  to  myself ; 
mean  men  love  to  crown  themselves  with  lies,  if  their 
base  deeds  are  not  sufficient ;  but  she  will  not  know 
the  outside  reports  till  some  one  is  there  who  will  be 
a  medium  between  her  and  the  world  she  does  not 
enter. 

I  felt  certain  that  my  next  letter  must  bring  me 
news  of  Col.  Anderson's  arrival,  and  I  waited  more 
impatiently  for  it,  I  believe,  than  for  any  of  the  pre- 
ceding ones.  It  came  at  the  fortnight's  end.  Her 
heart  was  over-ruling  this  writing,  I  thought,  for  here 
was  neither  date  nor  address  : 

"  He  is  coming  this  afternoon,"  she  began.  "  How 
he  found  me  out,  I  do  not  know ;  but  two  hours  ago  a 
messenger  came  to  the  house,  requesting  to  see  Mrs. 
Bromfield.  Joseph  a  was  dispatched  to  the  school- 
room, and  as  she  tripped  in,  she  said,  '  jHombre-m&n 
want  you,  Signorita.' 

"  It  gave  me  i  such  a  turn,'  as  our  Mrs.  Brown 
used  to  say,  for  I  have  been  looking  hourly  for  him  the 
last  three  days,  though  I  had  not  seen  his  name  in  the 
passenger  lists.  I  was  foolish  enough  to  think  it  must 
be  himself,  and  so  it  took  me  several  minutes  to  pre- 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  427 

pare  myself  for  the  sudden  meeting.  I  was  only  think- 
ing, it  is  true,  with  my  hands  idly  folded  ;  and  I  do 
not  know  of  what  I  was  thinking ;  but  at  last  I  went, 
quite  deliberately,  taming  my  steps  as  I  moved,  with 
many  recollections  of  our  short  and  varied  acquaint- 
ance, and  ready  for — I  know  not  what  line  of  conduct, 
had  he,  indeed,  been  there ;  when,  just  as  I  entered  the 
hall,  I  confronted — whom  do  you  think,  now,  dear 
Anna  ? — whom  but  Antonio,  with  brimming  eyes  and 
both  hands  outstretched  to  grasp  mine. 

"  The  poor  boy  !  It  was  a  great  proof  of  my  hearty 
feeling  toward  him  that  I  did  not  frown  upon  his  beam- 
ing face  for  being  his,  and  not  another's.  We  shook 
hands ;  he  asked  for  Phil,  and  I  sent  him  to  the  school- 
room, after  he  had  delivered  his  note,  with  the  proud 
and  happy  words,  '  From  my  master,  Col.  Anderson.' 

"  The  envelope  contained  his  card,  with  the  words 
underneath  the  name  :  '  Will  call  at  four,  if  agreeable. 
Antonio  will  wait  a  reply.' 

"  I  sat  down  to  write  it,  requesting  Josepha  to  look 
after  the  children.  I  said  it  would  be  agreeable — not 
much  else,  I  think,  beside  that ;  but  that  was  enough, 
was  it  not  ?  Think  what  a  state  of  mind  I  must  be  in, 
dear  Anna,  and  do  not  expect  me  to  write  now. 

"ELEVEN  O'CLOCK  IN  THE  EVENING- — He  has  just 
gone,  dear,  and  I  am  wishing  that,  instead  of  these 
peaceful,  contented  people,  I  had  some  of  the  miserable 
and  suffering  of  the  earth  about  me,  that  my  happiness 
might  overflow  into  their  desolate  souls. 

"  I  got  through  with  the  lessons  early,  and  sent  the 
children  away  with  Josepha,  keeping  only  Phil  at 
home,  for  Antonio  had  promised  to  come  out  in  the 
afternoon  and  take  him  a  walk.  I  told  Signorita  that 
I  expected  a  visitor  at  four,  and  would  like  her  to 
assign  me  the  drawing-room  or  parlor  to  receive  him 
in.  It  should  be  the  parlor,  she  said.  I  dressed  my- 
self in  a  black  silk,  with  a  collar  of  broad  lace,  and 
that  white  head  of  Rafael  at  my  throat — the  only  orna- 
ment about  me.  I  restored  my  hair  to  the  fashion  I 
wore  it  in — how  long  ago  it  seems  now ! — on  the 


428  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

Tempest.  I  gathered  bunches  of  the  sweetest  and 
loveliest  flowers — fragrant  petunias  arid  heliotropes, 
nodding  at  me  with  their  sparkling,  violet  eyes  ;  regal 
lilies  and  fuchsias  ;  and  pansies,  whose  purple  and  deli- 
cate beauty  both  contrasted  and  blended  with  the  meek 
grace  of  the  lily  of  the  valley ;  verbenas  and  gerani- 
ums, and  queenly  rose-buds,  and  some  odorous  orange 
and  lemon  flowers ;  and  set  all  but  one  tiny  vase,  of  tne 
most  beloved  ones,  in  unobservable  places  about  the 
room — for  I  love  sometimes  that  fragrance  should 
come  to  me,  like  the  white  May  leaves',  from 

"  '  Blossoms  out  of  sight,  yet  blessing  well.' 

"  And  thus  I  cheated  myself  into  preparation,  in- 
stead of  waiting,  till  my  watch  told  me  I  had  but  a 
few  minutes  left.  Then  I  sat  down  to  compose  myself. 

"  There  were  horses'  feet :  I  looked  up,  and  he  was 
at  the  gate ;  the  next  moment  the  door  opened,  and  we 
stood  face  to  face. 

"  I  spoke  first :  '  Dear  Leonard  !' 

"  «  Dear  Eleanore !' 

"  There  was  a  long  silence.  c  No  reproof  awaits  me 
now,  I  hope,'  he  said,  bearing  his  hand  heavily  on  my 
shoulder,  that  he  might  look  into  my  eyes,  which  were 
dimmed,  like  his  own,  with  the  mist  of  deep  joy ;  but 
the  next  moment  I  was  folded  more  closely  to  his  bo- 
som, and  I  heard,  softly  breathed,  the  words  :  '  Art 
thou  indeed  my  Eleanore,  or  a  phantom,  like  the  soul- 
less and  voiceless  one  that  has  mocked  me  so  long  ?  Is 
it  a  dream  that  I  hold  thee  thus — thy  breath  upon  my 
cheek,  and  thy  bosom-pulses  treasured  in  the  hollow 
of  my  hand  ?  Speak,  and  reassure  my  doubting  soul.' 

"  '  It  is  no  dream,'  I  whispered,  '  but  such  a  sweet 
reality  as  proves  our  Father's  utmost  love.' 

"  i  Thou  art,  then,  my  own,  Eleanore  CC 

"  i  And  thou  mine,  Leonard.' 

"  '  Kneel  to  God  with  me,'  he  said,  reverently. 
And  we  knelt. 

"  Dear  Anna,  what  a  prayer  was  that  he  uttered ! 
Every  word  so  distinctly  and  deeply  spoken,  that  my 
ear  waited  for  its  utterance,  and  my  soul  treasured  it 
among  the  things  never  to  be  forgotten : 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  429 

"  '  O  dear  and  beloved  Father  whom  we  adore,  it  is 
thou  who  givest  us  all  blessing,  and  all  capacity  for  en- 
joying it.  For  the  inestimable  gift  with  which  thou 
hast  enriched  my  life,  read  in  my  soul,  O  Father,  the 
thanks  which  cannot  be  uttered.  For  the  one  life  which 
is  henceforth  ours,  be  the  praise  thine,  who  hast  formed 
and  united  the  two.  In  our  great  happiness,  may  we  be 
tender  and  compassionate  to  souls  less  blest ;  and  as 
thou  art  thyself  love,  and  hast  given  this,  thy  highest 
attribute,  to  ennoble  our  earthly  life,  grant  us  that 
worthiness  in  receiving,  which  alone  can  give  purest 
joy  in  possessing.  And  be  thou,  just  and  holy  Giver, 
above  even  the  precious  gift,  evermore  adored  !' 

"  My  amen  was  a  living  response  to  this  heartfelt 
thanksgiving  and  prayer ;  but  my  own  soul  had  also 
its  petition,  and  I  drew  the  strong,  encircling  arm,  a 
little  more  closely,  while  I  uttered  an  inmost  aspiration 
for  a  life  not  less  noble  than  the  noblest ;  not  less  pure 
than  the  purest  imagination  of  our  hearts ;  for  a  life  so 
faithful,  that  it  should  embody  the  ideal  of  our  souls, 
and  be  one  in  harmony,  while  in  individuality  each 
should  grow  into  the  perfect  stature  of  the  man  and 
woman  living  near  to  God  and  to  all  good. 

"  '  And  thus  we  are  wedded  before  Heaven,  Elea- 
nore,'  he  said,  as  we  rose.  '  It  is  enough  so  for  the 
present.  Sit  here,  now,  very  near  me,  that,  seeing, 
hearing,  and  touching  you,  I  may  keep  myself  assured 
till  I  am  grown  familiar  with  the  thought  of  having 
you  mine.  I  knew  I  should,'  he  added ;  '  said  I  not  so 
in  my  last  note  ? — that  which  brought  me  this  precious 
sheet,  and  this  symbol,  which  has  spoken  to  me  of  you 
every  hour.  Ah,  Eleanore,  if  you  could  know  the 
comfort  of  heart  it  gave  me — 

'; '  I  think  I  could  have  appreciated  it,'  said  I,  de- 
murely, '  if  the  opportunity  had  been  afforded  me  ;  but 
I  have  had  no  such  comfort.' 

"  He  detected  me  in  the  tones  of  my  voice,  and 
said  :  '  Silence,  you  queen  of  the  unmerciful !  I  will 
have  not  so  much  as  a  word  of  your  badinage,  till  I 
have  been  heard  myself.' 

u  And  then  he  told  me  very  seriously  of  his  suffer- 
ing until  he  wrote  that  first  letter.  '  I  was  inspired  to 


430  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

do  that,  I  believe,'  he  said ;  '  for  your  silence  made  me 
victor  over  all  your — pride,  was  it  ?  If  you  had  not 
loved  me,  you  would  have  answered  my  letter,  would 
you  not,  dearest  ?' 

"  i  Yes ;  courtesy  would  have  constrained  me  to 
speak,  where  love  made  me  dumb,'  I  whispered. 

" 4  And  when  did  this  precious  experience  dawn 
upon  you,  ungracious  one  f 

"  '  I  knew  your  step,'  I  answered,  '  weeks  before 
that  daring  and  ill-mannered  salute  on  the  Tempest. 
I  remember  words  spoken  by  this  dear  voice  before  I 
dreamed  it  would  ever  utter  such  precious  ones  to  me, 
as  it  has.  You  carne  to  me  with  power  to  take  what  I 
could  not  withhold,  dear  Leonard.' 

" i  And  why  was  I  so  long  denied  this  sweet  con- 
fession ?' 

"  '  Because  you  could  not  be  trusted  with  it,'  I  replied. 

"  '  Eleanore !  Do  you  doubt  me  so  ?' 

"  ( Not  in  any  wise  to  wound  or  pain  you,  my  be- 
loved. I  do  not  doubt  the  true  heart  of  man  beating 
in  this  bosom ;  but  I  feared  it  would  claim  too  much 
of  me  if  I  confessed  its  power.  I  wished  to  come  freely 
to  you,  Leonard,  without  so  much  as  a  silken  thread  of 
gratitude,  or  obligation,  or  dependence,  to  draw  me.  I 
loathe  all  bonds  but  such  love  as  we  have  for  each 
other,  and  my  heart  bade  me  wait  till  such  an  hour  as 
this,  when  we  could  forget  everything  but  the  deep 
emotion  in  each  which  seeks  to  enfold  the  other.' 

"  '  I  see  it  was  worthy  of  thee,'  he  murmured,  '  so  to 
chasten  and  distill  the  love  that  blesses  us.  All  that  I 
have  suffered  is  repaid ;  I  have  no  word  of  chiding, 
such  as  I  meant  to  shake  thee  with.  Thou  knowost 
our  treasure  better  than  I,  and  how  it  could  be  bright- 
ened.' 

"  But  I  cannot  tell  you  all  we  said.  It  is  very 
common  to  call  the  talk  of  lovers  foolish ;  but  I  believe 
the  love-talk  of  any  two  souls  will  be  their  best  and 
deepest,  if  it  ever  rises  at  all  above  the  personal.  I  am 
sure  there  was  little  foolish  talk  between  us  ;  but  there 
were  often  silences  that  were  voluminous  in  meaning. 

"  '  I  am  growing,'  said  Leonard,  breaking  one  of 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  431 

these  pauses  with  those  inimitable  tones  of  his,  4  to  a 
sense  of  iny  wealth.  When  we  are  not  speaking,  my 
soul  is  hovering  about  and  absorbing  you  with  infinite 
joy.  Do  you  understand  ?  Do  you  feel  how  the  sud- 
den assurance  of  this  hour  taxes  all  the  capacity  of  my 
life  to  take  it  in  ?  Sudden  prosperity  and  success  have 
made  men  mad  ere  now ;  but  my  new  treasure  is  of 
another  sort,  and  I  grow  strong  and  clear  in  appropria- 
ting it ;  quiet  and  thankful,  as  a  man  might  emerging 
from  the  doom  of  darkness  to  the  glory  and  beauty  of 
the  day.  Dearest  Eleanore,  we  are  stewards  of  a  great 
trust.  Our  life  must  be  rich  in  good  works  to  repay  the 
munificence  of  this  dealing  with  us.' 

"  '  Good  works  ought  to  be  the  testimony  of  all 
happy  lives,'  said  I ;  '  but  some  good  wTork  must  have 
preceded  this  happiness,  Leonard.  We  could  not  pos- 
sibly be  to  each  other  what  we  are,  except  we  were  in 
the  main  a  true  man  and  woman,  with  just  purposes 
and  some  right  aspiration,  which  is  as  well  the  fruit  as 
the  seed  of  righteous  doing.' 

"  '  Ah  !  with  you,'  he  replied,  '  I  know  those  pages 
of  life  are  bright  and  beautiful ;  but  since  I  have  known 
you,  my  past  seems  an  unblooming  waste — a  succession 
of  idle,  though  not,  thank  God,  in  any  worse  sense, 
misspent  years.  You  have  so  appealed  to  all  there  is 
of  good  in  me — so  shamed  my  apathy  by  your  enthusi- 
asms— so  shattered  my  armor  of  self-complacency,  that 
I  feel  myself  a  naked  soul  in  the  world,  having  yet, 
after  thirty-four  years  of  life,  to  seek  wherewith  to 
clothe  myself.  Is  it  any  wonder  I  take  refuge  here  ? 
Dear  heart,  lead  me  and  guide  me  henceforth.' 

"  The  last  words  were  whispered  on  my  cheek  in  a 
voice  of  intense  emotion.  I  was  deeply  moved,  Anna, 
by  this  earnest  prayer  of  that  strong  soul,  and  more 
painfully  by  my  own  sense  of  inequality  to  his  gener- 
ous conception  of  me.  I  did  at  the  moment  the  best 
thing  I  could  see  to  do.  I  raised  my  head  from  his 
shoulder,  and  said,  '  Nay,  but  you  will  have  your  full 
share  of  that  to  do  also,  Leonard.  I  am  as  perverse  as 
the  winds,  and  as  obstinate  as  the  rocks.  I  am  some- 
times harsh  and  ungracious,  even  to  those  I  love  best. 


432  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

I  am  unforgiving  to  meanness,  and  occasionally  I  am 
sorely  tempted  to  do  some  daring  thing,  just  to  prove 
to  myself  where  the  kingdoms  of  jpropriety  and  impro- 
priety, of  right  and  wrong,  of  tenderness  and  cruelty, 
do  actually  join.  Dear,  steady  soul,  keep  me  from  all 
this,'  I  prayed,  mocking  him,  and  looking  from  my  own 
misty  eyes,  deep  into  the  half-puzzled  and  half-smiling 
ones  that  were  fixed  on  me. 

"  4  It  shall  be  a  compact,  then,'  he  said,  i  and  when 
I  fail  in  all  other  means  of  performing  my  part  of  it, 
I  shall  do  it  thus.' 

"  '  It  will  be  a  shame,'  I  said,  '  because  Nature  has 
given  you  a  strong  arm,  and  me  a  weak  one,  to  im- 
prison me  with  it.' 

"  '  Ah !'  he  said,  i  you  say  that ;  but  there  is  more 
power,  Eleanore,  in  this  soft  slight  hand  which  I  could 
crush  in  mine,  than  in  my  whole  frame.  Strength,  which 
is  mine,  is  narrow  and  special ;  power,  which  is  yours,  is 
broad  and  universal.' 

"  £  You  shall  depreciate  the  man  I  love  no  more, 
sir,'  I  said.  '  I  will  not  hear  it.  Come  into  the  gar- 
den with  me ;'  and  I  walked  by  his  side,  Anna,  with 
hypocritical  quietness,  looking  demure  and  meek,  I 
suppose,  when  there  were  pride  and  victory  enough  in 
my  breast  to  have  defied  the  world.  When  one  has 
such  a  soul  to  flee  to,  dear,  independence  does  not  seem 
to  be  worth  so  great  a  struggle  after  all. 

"  I  showed  him  my  school-room ;  but  he  was  less 
interested  and  pleased  with  it  than  I  expected  him  to  be. 

"  '  How  long,'  he  inquired,  placing  himself  at  my 
side,  *  dost  thou  intend  to  occupy  this  house  ?' 

"  The  question  was  adroit  and  somewhat  embarrass- 
ing. T  thought  for  a  single  moment  of  evading  it ;  but 
I  did  not,  and  looking  straight  into  his  eyes,  I  said, 
'till  I  go  to  yours.  But  let  us  not  speak  of  that 
to-day.'  At  that  moment  I  heard  the  dear  Phil's  voice, 
and  my  heart  smote  me  greatly  for  having  forgotten  his 
right  to  share  my  happiness.  As  they  drew  near  the 
gate  we  heard  Antonio  explaining  that  "  Turnel"  had 
come  on  that  horse,  and  the  gleaming  eyes  and  dancing 
feet  of  the  child  reproached  me  afresh.  He  looked  to- 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  433 

w.ird  the  school -room,  where  we  stood  in  the  door,  and 
with  a  great  flood  of  feeling  rushing  visibly  over  his 
face,  he  started  forward.  Leonard  met  him  at  the  gate 
and  picked  him  up,  dusty  as  he  was.  Such  a  meeting, 
and  such  fervent  kissing.  Dear  Anna,  it  moved  me 
almost  more  than  iny  own  happiness.  He  brought 
him  in  and  placed  him  on  the  little  table  which  Phil 
calls  his,  and  in  the  torrent  of  question  and  answer  that 
followed,  I,  standing  apart  still  at  the  door,  have  in 
mind  only  this :  '  Y  oil  won't  go  away  off  any  more, 
now,  will  you?' 

"  '  Ask  mamma  if  I  shall,'  was  the  answer.  But  I 
was  there  before  the  answer  was  fully  spoken,  and  put- 
ting my  lips  to  the  fair  forehead  of  the  man,  I  said, 
4  There  now,  Phil.  Do  you  think  he  will  go  away 
again  ?' 

"  '  JSo,  mamma,  we  love  him.     Don't  we ?' 

19 


CHAPTEK    LII. 

"  It  was  almost  sunset  when  he  rode  away,  saying 
that  he  would  return  at  eight  and  bring  an  old  friend 
with  him,  whom  he  wished  to  introduce  to  me.  I  was 
glad  to  be  alone  for  a  little  time,  to  calm  the  sweet 
tumult  of  my  heart,  and  from  the  riches  of  those  hours 
to  select  a  few  of  the  gems  that  were  to  pass  into  its 
imperishable  treasury.  I  was  sitting,  dreaming  over 
my  happiness,  when  I  heard  Phil  urging  Antonio — 
poor,  almost  forgotten  Antonio,  whose  presence  at  any 
other  time  would  have  commanded  my  most  grateful 
notice — in,  to  see  me.  I  looked  toward  the  front  door, 
and  there  they  were,  Phil  tugging  at  his  hand  and  lit- 
erally dragging  him  within. 

"  '  Yes,  come  in,  Antonio,'  said  I.  c  I  have  scarcely 
seen  you.  Come  in  and  sit  down.  I  must  have  a  talk 
with  you  about  San  Francisco.'  The  boy  dropped  upon 
a  chair  near  the  door,  and  in  the  moment's  silence, 
while  I  was  recalling  myself  to  the  earth  and  to  unen- 
chanted  life,  Phil  said,  '  I  did  tell  Antonio,  mamma, 
that  you  love  Turnel,  and  he's  going  to  stay  with  us 
now.  Isn't  he,  mamma,  dear  ?'  looking  anxiously  into 
my  confused,  frowning  face. 

"  '  We  shall  see,  darling,'  I  replied,  not  able  to 
speak  harshly  to  him — not  even  to  reprove  the  wound- 
ed, doubting  soul  which  looked  earnestly  into  mine  out 
of  his  eyes. 

"  Antonio  felt  the  awkwardness  of  the  position,  as 
keenly,  I  think,  as  I  did,  and  gazed  steadily  upon  the 
ground.  In  all  probability,  I  thought,  the  child  has  told 
him  the  proof  of  his  belief — nothing  more  natural,  in 
the  joy  of  his  open  heart  than  to  do  it,  and  so,  justified 
by  a  sort  of  necessitv,  1  made  Antonio  the  first  confi 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  435 

dant  of  my  happiness,  by  answering  Phil's  question  in 
the  affirmative,  and  then  adding,  <  You  will  remain  with 
Col.  Anderson,  I  hope,  Antonio.' 

"  '  Yes,  Madame,  long.  He  like  me.  I  more  like 
him,  and  Master  Feelip  and  you,  Madame.  I  have  so 
great  joy,'  he  said,  stepping  forward  and  falling  on  one 
knee  before  me,  and  kissing  my  hand.  i  You  all  so 
good,  so  love — you  be  very  happy,  and  I  happy,  too, 
Madame.' 

"  i  You  have  a  good  heart,  Antonio,'  said  I,  moved 
to  tears  by  the  poor  fellow's  simple  words  and  earnest 
tones ;  and  more,  perhaps,  by  the  sad  recollections 
they  summoned  from  the  past.  '  You  will  not  speak 
of  Col.  Anderson  and  me  to  any  one,  till — till — 

"  '  Me  understand,  Madame.  Me  never  speak ;  me 
talk  not  much — speak  not  much  anything  to  strange 
man.' 

" i  That  is  right.  Come  to  us  when  your  master 
can  spare  you,  and  take  Phil  out,  and  we  shall  always 
be  glad  to  see  you.  You  may  go  now.' 

"  '  Thanks,  Madame ;  I  take  Phil  one  more  leetle 
walk  in  the  garden  ;'  and  they  went  off,  leaving  me 
alone  again. 

"  But  I  was  destined  not  to  reach  an  island  in  the 
violet  sea  I  was  floating  on  yet,  for  Senor  Senano  came 
in  the  next  moment,  and  asked  me,  after  a  deal  of 
ceremonious  talk,  if  Col.  Anderson  would  return  this 
evening  ;  and  when  I,  blushing  like  a  fool,  I  suppose, 
said,  i  Yes,  at  eight  o'clock,'  he  was  much  pleased,  and 
said  he  wished  a  few  minutes'  speech  with  him. 

"  '  I  will  claim  him  only  one  very  little  moment, 
Signorita,'  he  said,  with  a  smile  which  I  have  no 
doubt  he  meant  to  be  arch,  but  which  was  sardonic, 
rather.  He  appeared  to  have  some  guess  of  my  good 
fortune,  which,  1  suppose,  they  were  entitled  to,  from 
the  length  of  the  visit  he  had  already  paid,  and  the 
quick  repetition  of  it. 

"  When  eight  o'clock  came,  Phil  was  not  yet  asleep. 
He  wished  to  see  the  Turnel  for  a  good-night  kiss,  and 
seemed  unable  to  understand  why  he  should  not  come  to 
his  bed  there,  as  he  had  often  on  the  island,  and  some- 


436  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

times  on  shipboard.     Poor  child !  the  proprieties  had 
not  yet  walled  him  in. 

"  When  I  heard  that  footfall,  I  said  :  '  Now,  Phil,  I 
must  go.  Good  night,  darling  ;  you  shall  see  Turnel 
to-morrow.' 

"  His  lips  were  quivering  as  I  kissed  them,  and  his 
eyes  were  moist  with  irrepressible  tears. 

"  '  I  want  to  see  him  to-night,  mamma,'  he  whis- 
pered, 

"  '  But  you  can't,  dear  Philip.  Now  be  a  good  boy, 
and  lie  still  and  think  of  him  till  you  go  to  sleep.' 

"  I  hastened  away  to  receive  my  visitors,  and  to  my 
glad  surprise,  found  the  friend  was  no  other  than  the 
old  American  gentleman,  whom  I  have  already  men- 
tioned as  acting  a  friendly  part  by  me  in  the  affair 
with  that  wretch,  Byfield.  Col.  Anderson  had  not 
told  him  my  name,  and  when  I  entered  the  room,  he 
was  no  less  pleased,  I  think,  than  myself. 

"  '  I  am  glad  you  two  are  acquainted,'  he  said  ; 
1  for  though  I  know  but  little  of  you,  Madam,  that  lit- 
tle has  convinced  me  you  will  rarely  find  a  soul  more 
congenial  to  your  own  than  my  old  and  dear  friend's 
here.  We  were  together  at  Bombay,  and  afterwards 
in  Mauritius,  and  now  here  we  are  at  the  antipodes  of 
those  places ;  but  in  all  my  wanderings,  I  have  not  met 
the  man  whose  hand  it  could  give  me  greater  pleasure 
to  clasp.'  * 

"  It  seemed  as  if  so  much  must  be  said  by  Mr.  Hed- 
ding,  and  no  less  would  serve  the  occasion.  Of  course 
I  must  reply,  too  ;  and  I  did  :  that  I  was  glad  to  hear 
an  i  esteemed  friend  '  so  highly  spoken  of  by  a  gentle- 
man whose  opinion  and  judgment  I  had  such  warrant 
for  trusting — and  soon.  'But,'  I  added,  'perhaps 
our  friend  had  better  not  be  further  burdened  with  his 
own  praises  at  this  time.' 

"  I  was  the  more  impatient  of  long  speech,  because 
I  heard — and  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  ears  as  I  did 
— Phil  roaring  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  The  sound 
came  softened  to  us,  by  the  heavy  walls,  but  I  had  left 
the  doors  ajar,  and  there  was  no  mistaking  the  cry,  or 
the  direction  from  which  it  came. 


Til  E    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  437 

"  I  rose  to  go  to  him,  apologizing  by  reference  to  it. 
I  knew  what  he  wanted,  and,  looking  at  the  tender- 
ness expressed  in  Leonard's  face,  I  did  not  wonder  the 
child's  heart  demanded  him  so  keenly. 

" t  He  is  crying  for  a  good-night  from  you.  Colonel/ 
I  said.  'He  begged  for  it  before  I  left  him,  but  1 
hoped  he  would  be  reconciled  to  sleep  without  it. 
Shall  I  bring  him  in  his  wrapper  ?' 

"  i  Certainly.  Phil  and  I  are  too  old  friends,  and 
have  seen  too  much  hardship  together,  to  be  divided 
now  by  a  mere  matter  of  ceremony.' 

"  I  pinned  up  his  long  night-gown,  therefore,  put 
his  feet  into  a  pair  of  tiny  slippers,  which  Antonio  had 
given  him  in  San  Francisco,  and  sent  him  tripping 
along  before  me  to  the  parlor. 

"  What  a  hilarious  meeting  they  had  !  How  they  re- 
joiced together,  and  gave  and  received  tossings  up,  and 
laughed  and  talked,  and  finally  parted  with  a  long  hug 
and  kiss  !  And  Phil  was  so  thankful  and  happy  and 
quiet,  when  he  again  laid  down  in  bed,  that  I  could  not 
reprove  him  for  crying,  nor  wonder  that  he  did  it. 
I  felt  that  I  should  behave  more  unreasonably,  per- 
haps, if  I  were  denied  the  pleasure  he  had  asked  for. 

"  I  invited  the  Senanos  to  see  my  visitors.  La  Sig- 
norita  was  not  well,  and  excused  herself.  She  had  a 
handkerchief  bound  about  her  forehead,  and  was  keeping 
company  with  a  violent  headache ;  but  Don  Alexandro 
came  in,  and  after  saluting  Mr.  Hedding,  was  intro- 
duced by  him  to  Col.  Anderson. 

"  Some  general  conversation  followed  the  introduc- 
tion, and  then  the  Don  asked  for  a  private  interview 
with  him,  to  which  Leonard  assented,  and  they  re- 
paired to  the  drawing-room. 

"  During  the  quarter  of  an  hour's  absence,  Mr. 
Hedding  informed  me — volunteering  the  same — that 
his  friend  had  been  sent  for  by  a  company  of  capital- 
ists, who  had  taken  a  heavy  job  in  hand  in  the  southern 
mining  district,  with  an  incompetent  man  to  conduct 
it.  '  I  knew  Anderson  was  on  this  side  of  the  globe 
somewhere,'  he  said,  '  and  as  he  was  not  here,  there  was 
but  one  other  place  where  he  could  be,  so  we  wrote  to 


4:38  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

California  for  him  ;  and  I  am  glad  he  has  come ;  for 
if  any  man  could  save  us,  he  can.' 

"  I  could  ask  no  questions — such  as  whether  this 
business  would  take  him  permanently  from  the  city  or 
not,  nor  how  soon,  nor  how  long.  Much  as  I  wished 
to  know,  I  kept  quiet  on  these  subjects,  and  merely 
acknowledged  by  my  remarks  an  ordinary  friend's  in- 
terest in  what  he  had  told  me. 

"When  Leonard  returned,  unaccompanied  by  the 
Don,  I  begged,  at  the  risk  of  having  some  woman's 
curiosity  imputed  to  me,  to  know  how  he  had  found  us 
so  soon,  Mr.  Hedding  having  said  that  he  had  landed 
late  last  night. 

" '  I  accidentally  met  a  friend  at  the  Hotel  du  JSTord,' 
he  replied,  'who  told  me  where  you  were.' 

"  There  was  a  glance  of  intelligence  between  him 
and  Mr.  Hedding  at  the  moment,  that  piqued  me ;  but 
I  would  not  recognize  the  meaning  look.  I  talked  of 
his  voyage,  of  California,  of  you,  dear  Anna,  and  any 
other  of  the  thousand  things  which  help  people  to 
conceal  themselves  in  speech.  It  was  not  late  when 
Mr.  Hedding  drew  a  large,  old-fashioned  watch  from 
his  pocket  and  said,  '  It  is  my  time  for  going  home. 
Do  you  walk  now,  Col.  Anderson  ?' 

" '  Not  yet,  sir,  if  you  will  pardon  me  for  letting 
you  go  alone.' 

"  '  I  beg  you  won't  mention  it.  I  am  a  little  an- 
cient in  habits  as  well  as  years,  Ma'am,'  he  said,  i  and 
am  never,  willingly,  up  beyond  my  stated  hours.  If  I 
had  the  same  reason  for  forgetting  my  rest  that  my 
friend  has,'  smiling  toward  him,  '  I  dare  say  it  would 
be  different.' 

"  '  I  can  say  nothing  so  kind  as  to  wish  you  may 
have,  some  day,'  said  Leonard,  drawing  near'  to  me — 
his  countenance  beaming  with  the  frank  affection  of 
his  heart. 

"  '  Ah !  Thank  you.  No,  it  doesn't  belong  to  us 
old  men,'  he  said,  and  with  the  words  his  face  lost  its 
playful  gayety.  '  Good  ni^ht.  God  bless  you  both.' 
And  witli  a  cordial  clasp  of  our  hands,  he  was  gone, 
and  we  were  alone  again. 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  439 

"  '  You  will  pardon  me,  I  hope,  my  own  queen 
Eleanore,'  said  Leonard,  folding  me  in  his  arms.  '  I 
was  like  Phil,  and  could  not  part  from  you  to-night 
with  the  eyes  of  a  stranger  upon  us.  Have  I  tres- 
passed by  remaining  ?' 

"  '  The  social  usages  are  very  arbitrary  here,'  I  re- 
plied, '  and  adapted  to  low  natures,  as  all  arbitrary 
rules  of  action  are ;  but  they  will  no  less  have  to  be 
observed  by  us,  I  suppose.  If  I  must  affront  society, 
Leonard,  I  would  rather  do  it  in  a  great  than  a  small 
thing.  Therefore — 

"  '  Yes,  I  see.  Therefore  I  must  not  sit  with  you  a 
half  hour,  though  to  do  so  were  the  greatest  and  purest 
happiness  I  could  know.  Then,  Eleanore,  do  not  chide 
me  if,  even  so  early,  I  think  and  speak  of  that  time 
and  relation  which  will  remove  all  hindrance  to  my 
coining  and  going.  I  cannot  lose  you  any  more,  dear- 
est. Life  is  too  short,  and  time,  so  freighted  as  ours, 
too  precious  to  be  lost  in  these  poor  conformities.  Is 
it  not  so  to  you  as  well  as  me  ?' 

"  '  My  heart,'  I  replied,  '  rebels  as  deeply  as  yours, 
beloved,  and  I  ask  your  strength  to  aid  me  against 
my  own  weakness.  Ah !  though  you  smile  so  incredu- 
lously, I  am  weak,  as  I  fear  you  may  find  in  the 
coming  days  ;  but  there  is  no  time  to  prove  it  to  you 
now.' 

"  '  I  shall  have  to  leave  the  city  soon,  Eleanore.' 

"  '  For  a  Ions;  time  ?' 

"  '  Some  weets,  at  least — perhaps  months.' 

"  This  was  a  heavy  thought  to  come  so  soon  ;  but 
while  we  talked,  the  time  was  passing. 

"  '  Dear  friend,'  I  said,  '  there  is  much  to  be  under- 
stood between  us  yet,  that  we  take  not  the  future  at 
disadvantage.  Let  me  see  you  daily  while  you  are 
here.  My  school-hours  are  from  ten  to  three ;  so  there 
is  a  long  morning  of  delicious  peacefulness  in  the  outer 
world,  and  all  the  evenings,  after  four.  Remember,  you 
are  not  to  rob  me  of  one  of  them.  ~No  invitations  to  late 
dinners  shall  you  accept  but  at  peril  of  my  displeasure.' 

"  '  This  school  could  not  possibly  be  given  up,  I 
suppose  V  he  said. 


44:0  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  '  On  no  account,'  I  replied,  *  at  this  time ;  but  I 
am  detaining  you.  Good  night.' 

"  i  Good  night,  Eleanore.  I  suppose  you  are  right 
to  send  me  away ;  but  I  almost  wish  you  had  not  the 
strength — or-  the  weakness — to  do  it.' 

"  So  he  went,  Anna,  and  I  came  in  to  write  you, 
and  I  have  reached  the  end  of  the  letter  and  the  night 
together,  I  believe ;  for  there  is  a  cock-crow  from  the 
yard.  You  will  not  receive  another  such  epistle  in  a 
year,  from  ELEANORE." 

I  felt  great  pride  and  satisfaction  in  this  letter,  and 
not  a  little  concern  also  that  everything  connected  with 
the  happy  events  it  foreshadowed  should  come  and  go 
harmoniously.  I  had  a  strong  feeling  that  I  ought  tro 
be  with  my  friend,  and  I  almost  wondered,  sometimes, 
how  she  got  along  without  me.  Nearly  four  of  the 
six  months  I  had  engaged  to  stay  were  already  gone. 
The  rainy  season  was  far  advanced,  and  the  country  a 
glorious  spectacle  from  sea-shore  to  mountain-top — a 
miracle  of  verdurous  and  varied  beauty.  I  felt  so 
much  life  and  health  in  the  sunshine  and  winds,  the 
rains  and  the  dry  days  were  each  such  a  joy  to  soul 
and  body,  that  I  now  wished  we  were  all  quietly  set- 
tled again  in  that  land  of  health  and  plenty ;  and  I 
began  to  inquire  if  it  would  ever  be  so.  I  should  go 
to  her  there — that  was  certain  ;  but  should  we  not  all 
return  again  ?  I  spoke  a  good  deal  of  this  in  my  letters ; 
but  if  it  was  ever  referred  to  in  hers,  it  was  so  vaguely 
and  generally  as  to  give  me  little  satisfaction.  She 
seemed  equally  indifferent  to  all  places,  in  the  pos- 
session of  wealth  that  would  enrich  any. 

Her  next  letter  said  she  was  alone.  Col.  Anderson 
had  gone  on  his  contemplated  journey — had  been  gone 
a  fortnight,  and  she  had  heard  from  him  but  once. 

"The  barbarians,"  she  added,  indignantly,  "having 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

but  a  semi-monthly  post,  and  that  not  the  most  reliable, 
between  this  seaport  and  their  richest  mines.  We  set- 
tled nothing  definitely  as  to  the  future,  Anna,"  she  con- 
tinued. "He  thought  he  should  not  be  absent  more 
than  three  weeks  at  this  time,  and  as  so  many  are  in- 
terested in  his  return — Don  Alexandra  among  them — 
I  hear  his  name  daily  coupled  with  wishes  for  his 
coming,  which  I  echo  away  down  in  my  heart. 

"  Phil  nearly  took  to  his  bed  upon  it.  I  never  saw 
a  young  child  mourn  so  inconsolably  as  he,  for  '  Turnel' 
and  Antonio.  After  the  pleasure  of  the  daily  visits, 
walks,  and  drives,  he  seemed  unable  to  bear  their  loss, 
and  indignantly  asked  me,  '  Didn't  I  love  '  Turnel,'  and 
say  he  was  going  to  live  with  us  ?' 

"  I  am  writing,  though,  to  tell  you  something  beside 
all  this.  Mr.  Hedding  paid  me  a  visit  a  few  days  ago. 
He  is  fully  informed  of  our  engagement,  and  as  pleased 
with  it  as  if  one  of  us  were  his  own  child,  and  he  told 
me  that  on  the  morning  after  his  arrival  from  Califor- 
nia, Col.  Anderson  was  sitting  at  breakfast,  at  the  Hotel 
du  Nord,  among  a  company  of  gentlemen  who  were  en- 
tire strangers  to  him,  Mr.  H.  himself  not  having  been 
present,  when  his  attention  was  attracted  to  a  little 
group,  in  earnest  conversation,  at  one  end  of  the  table. 
They  grew  louder  as  they  went  on,  till  at  length 
one  of  the  speakers,  striking  his  hand  decisively  upon 
the  board,  exclaimed,  i  By  Jove,  I  say  she  was  right, 
and  I'll  maintain  it !' 

" '  Hurrah  for  Huntley,  the  champion  of  the  Yan- 
kee school-mistress !'  said  a  mischievous  fellow  among 
them. 

"  i  If  she  is  a  Yankee  school-mistress,  she's  a  true 
woman,  I'll  swear,  and  I  admire  her  pluck.' 

"  '  So  do  I,'  said  a  third.  '  Byfield  was  always  a 
coward  and  scoundrel,  though  he  has  fought  two  or 
three  times  with  devilish  good  luck.  It  must  have 
been  capital  to  see  him  finished  and  actually  sent  from 
the  country  by  a  woman,  who  never,  as  far  as  I  can 
learn,  has  left  the  house  she  lives  in.  Have  any  of  you 
ever  seen  her  ?' 

" '  No.  no,'  was  answered  by  the  voices  of  the  party, 
19* 


44:2  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

to  which  Col.  Anderson  was  now  giving  the  keenest 
attention,  unobserved  by  them. 

" i  I  never  saw  her,'  said  one,  '  though  I  have  dined 
at  old  Senano's  three  times  lately,  and,  since  this  af- 
fair, have  kept  a  sharp  look-out  for  anything  feminine 
— except  La  Signorita — but  in  vain.' 

" '  Hamilton,  who  was  invited  there  with  Byfield, 
told  me  all  about  it,'  said  another ;  '  and  he  said  her 
speech  was  as  direct  and  trenchant  as  a  Toledo  blade, 
and  that  he'd  rather  face  a  six-barrel  revolver,  than 
have  to  stand  what  poor  By  did.  And  the  best  of 
it  was,  that  it  was  done  as  gently  and  quietly  as  a  lady 
would  entertain  an  agreeable  visitor,  but  with  such 
eyes,  he  said,  as  he  never  saw  before.  Ham,  I  believe, 
was  quite  captivated  with  her.' 

"  At  this  moment  Mr.  Hedding  said  he  entered  the 
room.  He  did  not  at  first  see  his  old  friend,  but,  walk- 
ing toward  this  party  and  exchanging  salutations  with 
them,  one  said :  '  You  are  a  guest  at  old  Senano's,  oc- 
casionally, are  you  not,  Mr.  Hedding  ?' 

"  '  I  have  had  the  honor  of  dining  with  him  a  few 
times,'  he  replied. 

"  '  Have  you  ever  been  so  fortunate  as  to  see  there 
the  heroine  of  the  Byfield  tragedy?'  asked  the  mis- 
chievous young  man.  l  That  is  what  these  gentlemen 
wish  to  know.  We  are  all  fresh  from  the  mountains, 
yesterday,  except  Hall,  and  Huntley,  who  has  thrown 
down  the  glove  for  this  modern  Rebecca.  If  one  of 
our  artists  could  get  a  portrait  of  her  now,  and  exhibit 
it,  he'd  have  the  custom  of  this  whole  party.' 

" '  Nobody  attends  to  your  raillery,  Brydges,'  said 
Huntley.  '  It  falls  everywhere,  and  hurts  nothing.' 

"  '  And  I  can  tell  you,  gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Hed- 
ding, '  that  if  you  saw  her  portrait,  you  would  see  the 
picture  of  a  noble  woman.  She  comes  from  my  State, 
and  I  am  proud  of  her.' 

"  i  Can't  you  contrive  to  show  her  to  us  ?  By  Jupi- 
ter, I  should  like  to  see  the  woman  who  could  make  a 
man  eat  his  words  in  presence  of  others,  as  she  did — 
and  do  it,  too,  without  noise  or  tears  :  that's  the  mira- 
cle !  I  should  like  to  be  introduced  to  her.' 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  443 

"  '  She  doesn't  receive  visits,'  said  Mr.  Hedding. 

"  He  was  touched  upon  the  arm  as  he  spoke,  and 
looking  round,  there  stood  Col.  Anderson  at  his  elbow 
— a  commanding  figure  and  presence  which  arrested 
their  conversation  till  the  two  moved  away  to  an  unoc- 
cupied part  of  the  room.  Presently  they  returned,  and 
the  stranger  was  introduced  to  Huntley,  but  no  one 
else,  and  then  they  walked  away.  'And  when  we  had 
reached  his  private  room,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  '  the 
Colonel  took  Huntley's  hand,  and  said  :  "  I  am  under 
great  obligation  to  you,  sir,  for  the  service  you  have 
done  a  lady  this  morning  in  that  room.  The  person  of 
whom  you  spoke  is  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  and  no 
approval  that  you  could  express  would  exceed  what 
I  know  to  be  her  desert."  : 

"  '  And  that  was  the  way  he  found  you,  ma'am,' 
added  the  good  Mr.  Hedding.  <  He  inquired  for  By- 
field,  whom  it  proves  that  he  knew  years  ago  at  home, 
but  that  gentleman  was  safe  oat  of  harm's  way.  He 
couldn't  stand  the  fire  which  your  defeat  of  him  pro- 
voked, and  being  an  idle  vagabond,  with  nothing  to  do 
and  money  to  spend,  he  went  off  to  Panama,  I  be- 
lieve.' 

"  I  am  glad,  dear  Anna,  that  Leonard  heard  so 
favorably  of  this  mortifying  affair  at  the  first.  It 
might  have  reached  him  in  some  less  pleasant  manner, 
and  been  a  source  of  pain  or  chagrin  to  both  of  us. 
Yery  delicate  and  considerate  in  him,  was  it  not,  to 
leave  it  to  me  whether  it  should  ever  be  mentioned 
between  us?" 

Four  days  later :  "  Leonard  is  confidently  looked  for 
early  next  week.  I  do  not  know  how  long  he  will  stay, 
and  sometimes  I  feel  doubtful  whether  or  not  I  shall 
stay  behind  him.  I  have  come  to  think  lately  that  it 
would  be  very  pleasant  to  live  down  there  in  the 
mountains,  which  he  describes  as  very  grand  and  im- 
posing, and  have  him  coming  and  going  many  times 
through  the  day.  I  am  talking  foolishly  to  you,  I 
know,  but  one  must  be  sometimes  allowed  to  do  that. 
You  shall  hear  from  me  after  hi*  return,  and  then  I 


444  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

will  tell  you  if  I  think  I  ought  to  ask  you  to  come 
here. 

"  Do  not  think,  dear,  I  want  you  less  than  I  once 
did.  E"o,  but  more ;  for  I  could  speak  so  freely  to 
your  good  sense  and  honest  heart  of  what  I  am  now 
obliged  to  suppress,  except  in  these  fragmentary,  poor 
letters.  Think  of  all  the  meetings  and  talks  I  have 
not  even  alluded  to,  in  which  we  are  daily  becoming 
better  known  to  each  other,  as  you  will  be  glad  to 
hear,  to  my  perfect  satisfaction. 

"  Thine,  without  change,         ELEANORE." 

"  Did  I  tell  you,"  she  adds,  in  a  postscript,  "  that 
the  weather  topic  is  enriched  here  by  the  additional 
item  of  '  shocks'  ?  We  had  a  sharp  one  two  days  ago, 
but  I  was  less  alarmed  by  it  than  I  thought  I  should 
be,  from  all  the  talk  I  have  heard  about  them." 


CHAPTER    LIII. 

Her  next  letter  was  a  month  later : 

"  I  did  not  write  by  the  last  mail,  dear  Anna. 
I  had  so  much  to  think  of,  and  was  so  little  decided  in 
regard  to  many  important  things,  that  I  could  not 
speak  clearly  to  you.  Oh,  that  you  had  been  with  me, 
dear  child,  in  this  time !  It  has  been  a  period  of  great 
joy  and  great  struggle  with — myself.  I  have  long  had 
at  the  bottom  of  my  heart  a  heroism — perhaps  the 
one  of  my  life,  so  far — and  I  have  lived  it  within 
the  past  month.  But  I  will  proceed  to  narrate  at 
once : 

"  Leonard  came,  a  day  or  two  later  than  we  ex- 
pected him.  IJe  was  very  much  absorbed,  for  nearly 
a  week  after  his  arrival,  in  receiving  and  making  pro- 
posals, estimates,  plans,  and  so  on.  He  spent  an  hour 
with  me  the  first  evening,  and  one  or  two  every 
morning,  during  those  busy  days.  That  was  little  to 
see  of  him,  but  it  was  enough  to  convince  me  how 
earnest,  manly,  and  straightforward  are  all  the  phases 
of  his  character,  and  that  he  is  not  less  reliable  in  his 
relation  to  these  men  of  business  than  to  the  woman 
who  loves  him. 

"  He  also  dined  here  on  one  of  those  days,  when  the 
company  consisted  of  about  twenty  persons,  and  occu- 
pied a  distinguished  seat,  with  me  at  his  side,  devoting 
himself  in  so  marked  a  manner,  but  without  a  visible 
sign  of  the  sentimental  lover,  that  any  possible  freedom 
of  thought  which  might  have  been  indulged  about  '  the 
governess,'  must  have  been  frozen  at  its  source.  He 
introduced  but  one  of  the  guests  to  me — Gen.  Blanco, 
the  revolutionist,  who  was  both  gracious  and  respect- 


446  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

fill ;  and  as  we  ladies  were  about  leaving  the  table,  be 
half  whispered  :  '  I  shall  join  you  very  soon.  I  can- 
iiot  sit  over  wine  with  these  men,  under  the  same  roof 
with  you.  So  look  for  me  at  the  earliest  moment  that 
I  can  excuse  myself.' 

"  He  soon  came  to  the  parlor,  and,  after  saluting 
Las  Signoritas  in  the  stately  style  suited  to  the  Span- 
ish drawing-room,  seated  himself  by  me.  I  had  pre- 
viously vowed  that  my  first  free  word  to  him  should 
prepare  the  way  for  the  subject  I  had  pondered  and 
dreaded ;  and  now,  that  I  might  not  be  defeated  by  my 
own  fears  or  his  speech,  I  said,  hurriedly :  '  I  wish  to 
have  a  talk  with  you,  Leonard  ;  but  as  what  I  have  to 
say  requires  calm  consideration,  it  will  be  better  to 
wait  till  these  negotiations  are  closed,  will  it  not  ?' 

" '  Yes  ;  but  T  hope  there  is  nothing  unreasonable  or 
impracticable  coming,  now.  I  see  in  your  face  a 
shadow,  Eleanore ;  its  color  varies  like  the  auroral 
sky,  and  I  know  your  heart  is  fluttering  there  like  a 
wild  bird  caged.  "Walk  in  the  garden  with  me,  and 
tell  me  what  brings  all  this.  Now,  what  is  it,  heart's 
dearest  f  he  said,  when  we  had  gone  beyond  the  first 
range  of  flower-beds.  '  Do  not  hesitate  to  walk  here 
with  me.  They  all  understand  our  relation — all,  at 
least,  who  know  or  care  anything  about  us.  I  ex- 
plained to  Don  Alexandro  this  morning.  He  was 
very  polite,  but  said  it  needed  no  explanation  to  him 
and  La  Signorita.  They  had  eyes  and  hearts.' 

"  '  I  am  glad  you  have  done  it,'  I  said  ;  '  it  relieves 
me  of  some  embarrassment  I  have  felt  all  along,  but 
scarcely  wished  to  put  my  own  hand  out  to  remove.' 

"  ;  Was  that  the  substance  of  the  shadow  that  lay 
here,  and  here,  but  a  moment  ago  ?' 

"  '  There  was  none  there,  foolish  one,'  I  said. 

"  '  There  was,  Eleanore  ;  I  saw  it  plainly.  Never 
think  to  deceive  me  with  those  eyes  and  lips,  that  I 
know  every  shade  and  motion  of,  as  well  as  the  painter 
of  his  picture.  Come,  I  must  have  the  word  before  I 
go  to  those  men.  You  told  me  you  were  sometimes 
perverse  and  obstinate,  and  asked  me  to  treat  you  for 
those  symptoms  ;  and  I  showed  you  how  I  would  do  it, 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  447 

when  other  means  failed.  Now  you  cannot  loose  my 
arm  till  you  tell  me  something  of  what  is  on  your  mind 
— and  if  I  cannot  get  speech  from  those  lips,  I  will 
have  something  else.  Do  you  see  now  how  I  have  all 
the  advantage  ?' 

"  '  Yes.  You  would  scarcely  be  a  man  if  you 
didn't  take  and  boast  it,  too.' 

" '  Ah,  that  sharp  tongue  !'  he  said  ;  i  but  it  shall 
not  win  your  freedom,  though  it  were  a  hundred  times 
sharper.  I  said  I  would  have  speech  or  something 
sweeter  from  those  lips.  But  I  will  silence  them  if 
they  utter  another  so  saucy  a  word.  Now  beware. 
I  know  that  something  keen  is  burning  to  leap  forth, 
but  the  instant  it  comes,  I  shall  seal  them.  It  is  allow- 
able in  all  warfare  to  silence  the  enemy's  guns  when 
you  can.' 

"  I  was  silent,  and  after  a  moment,  releasing  me,  he 
said,  seriously :  i  Tell  me  now,  dear  Eleanore,  not 
what  the  thing  is  you  have  to  say — for  that  we  have 
not  time — but  if  it  will  affect  our  happiness  or  relation 
in  any  degree.  Is  it  anything  new  ?  does  it  cloud  the 
future  in  which  our  hopes  are  gathered  ?  Come  here, 
close  to  my  heart,  and  tell  me.' 

"  I  could  not  say  clearly  either  yes  or  no,  but  after 
a  moment  I  whispered  :  '  It  is  something  requiring 
great  courage  on  my  part,  dear  Leonard  ;  the  exercise 
of  that  will  be  the  greatest  pain  it  will  cost,  I  hope.' 

"  '  You  alarm  me,'  he  said.  '  Is  there  anything  in 
your  history,  my  own  high-hearted  Eleanore,  that  it 
ought  to  cost  you  so  bitter  an  effort  to  tell  to  me  f — 
to  me  who  love  you  so  entirely  and  inevitably?  Oh, 
dear  child,  you  know  little  of  my  love,  if  you  dread  to 
tell  me  anything  that  can  possibly  have  been  a  part  of 
the  experience  of  such  a  soul  as  yours.  I  know  its  ele- 
vation and  purity,  as  I  know  that  nature,  in  her  inmost 
processes  and  workings,  is  worthy  the  God  who  or- 
dained them.' 

" '  You  mistake  me,  Leonard,'  I  said,  laying  the 
generous,  encircling  hand  more  closely  to  my  heart ; 
'  you  mistake  me.  It  is  not  of  my  history,  but  my 
thoughts  and  opinions,  I  wish  to  speak  to  you.' 


THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  '  Thank  God  !'  he  exclaimed,  fervently.  '  I  would 
not  have  your  memory  darkened  by  a  pain  that  I  could 
not  soothe  or  banish,  for  the  treasure  of  the  earth  ;  but 
if  it  is  only  the  opinions  which  this  busy  brain  has  been 
working  out — only  those— I  shall  come  to  hear  them 
as  I  would  to  drink  a  bumper  of  wine  of  cypress. 
Every  thought  and  sentiment  of  yours  I  have  ever 
heard,  dearest  one,  has  penetrated  my  soul,  as  the  sub- 
tile spirit  of  the  purest  wine  penetrates  the  brain — 
kindling  life,  feeling,  lofty  purpose,  and  sublime  hopes.' 

"  '  But  what  I  have  to  say  now  may  aifect  you  differ- 
ently,' I  said,  wishing  to  cloud  the  brightness  of  his 
confidence  a  little.  '  My  sentiment  toward  you  par- 
takes strongly  of  worship — for  your  completeness  of 
manhood  and  warm  and  spontaneous  soul-life.  The 
earth  you  walk  upon  becomes  consecrated  to  me  ;  the 
air  you  breathe  more  ethereal  and  divine  by  your  pres- 
ence in  it.  I  have  found  in  you,  dear  idol  of  my  heart, 
that  other  life,  which  nothing  can  ever  separate  from 
mine,  and  it  is  another  world  to  me  since.  Time,  life, 
death,  and  eternity,  are  changed  by  this  relation  of  my 
being  to  yours.  But  I  will  carefully  cherish  all  that 
can  glorify  this.  It  is  not  enough  for  me  that  it  is  and 
must  be,  let  what  will  happen  to  us  in  the  outward  : 
but  I  will  have  it  so  rich  and  perfect,  that  our  days 
shall  come  and  go  with  rejoicing,  and  life  shall  be  a 
perpetual  feast — but  so  wisely  and  delicately  enjoyed, 
that  it  shall  not  pall  upon  us.  In  love,  Leonard,  you 
shall  find  me  the  veriest  epicure.  I  will  be  so  dainty 
and  nice  in  its  entertainments,  that  no  one  of  them 
shall  ever  be  felt  as  unwelcome.  I  will  strew  its  bloom- 
ing paths  not  only  with  the  joys  that  God  sanctions, 
but  with  the  denials  that  highten  all  pleasures.  I  will 
so  care  for  your  happiness  and  my  own,  that  the  flight 
of  3  ears  shall  take  from  us  nothing  which  time  is  com- 
manded to  leave,  and  that  our  hearts,  becoming  more 
firmly  united  by  all  the  high  respects  and  observances 
that  exist  between  the  man  and  the  woman,  shall  never 
be  less  alive  to  the  beauty  of  the  same  between  the 
husband  and  wife.  It  is  of  such  things,  dear  Leonard, 
that  I  wish  to  talk  to  you,  in  some  undisturbed  hour, 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  449 

when  your  heart  is  tranquil  and  your  thoughts  serene.. 
W^ill  you  come  to  hear  me  ?' 

"  '  Will  I  come  !'  he  echoed,  drawing  me  closer  to 
his  breast.  '  Will  I  open  my  eyes  to  see  the  splendors 
of  to-morrow  ?  Will  I  surfer  my  ears  to  drink  in  the 
melodies  of  winds  and  waters,  and  birds  and  happy  in- 
sects ?  Will  I  breathe  the  odors  wherewith  our  dear 
God  hath  freighted  the  embracing  airs  ?  Then  will  I 
come  to  thee,  Eleanore.  And  call  no  more  on  that 
higli  courage,  which  as  much  as  anything  else  in  thy 
soul  hath  riveted  fast  its  fetters  on  mine.  For  in  all 
these  things  thou  speakest  to  me  as  one  inspired. 
Therefore  fear  not  to  utter  thy  inmost  thought,  dear 
Eleanore.  I  hear  the  sounds  of  movement  within. 
One  sweet  kiss  before  I  go  from  thy  sphere  to  the 
earthy  one — a  long  and  trusting  kiss  to  chase  away  the 
last  vanishing  mist  between  us.' 

"  I  was  unutterably  happy  in  that  moment,  Anna ; 
happy  in  having  followed  my  highest  convictions ; 
happy  in  the  assurance  of  a  cordial  and  serious  hear- 
ing of  all  I  had  yet  to  say  ;  and  more  than  all,  in  the 
exceeding  tenderness  and  purity  of  the  love  expressed 
in  that  parting. 

"  *  I  shall  see  you  no  more  till  to-morrow,7  he  mur- 
mured ;  '  and  this  is  the  adieu  which  will  be  visibly 
conveyed  by-and-by,  by  clasped  hands  only.  After 
three  days  I  will  come  for  that  audience.  Make  thy 
heart  light,  meanwhile,  for  it  can  contain  no  thought 
or  emotion,  I  know,  which  thou  shouldst  shrink  from 
uttering  to  me.' 

"  I  lingered  long  enough  among  the  flowers  to  dry 
the  happy  dew  that  had  distilled  into  my  eyes,  and 
tranquil ize  the  strong  pulsations  which  seemed  to  have 
passed  from  his  bosom  into  mine,  and  then  I  also  en- 
tered the  house,  went  to  the  parlor,  and,  for  the  first 
time  in  the  presence  of  strangers,  there  sat  down  at 
the  piano.  One  of  the  ladies  had  been  playing,  and 
very  well,  too — we  had  heard  her  in  the  garden — a 
beautiful  piece  from  La  Ceneventola,  and  the  music 
still  lay  upon  the  rack.  I  looked  at  Signorita,  who 
invited  me,  by  her  eyes  and  nodding  gesture,  to  go  on. 


4:50  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  I  believe  I  was  inspired  then,  Anna,  if  I  ever 
was.  I  struck  a  few  chords — carelessly,  as  in  our 
youth  we  sweep  the  strings  of  the  heart  often,  with 
rash  and  blind  hand  ;  but  the  right  voice  did  not  come 
till  I  had  wandered  over  the  keys  several  times.  At 
last  I  found  it,  and  in  the  finding,  I  quickly  forgot  all 
else,  but  how  I  could  satisfy  my  soul  with  the  wealth 
of  sounds.  My  thoughts  ran  backward  from  the  rich 
and  flowery  present,  but  there  was  sadness  which  I 
resolutely  turned  from,  bringing  myself  by  soft  and 
lingering  touches  on  the  minor  keys,  away  from  the 
grief  I  dared  not  let  into  my  heart — away,  to  the 
blooming  fields  and  towering  mountain-crests,  where 
my  joys  and  triumphs  now  lie.  I  lived  in  it,  dear,  as 
I  had  just  lived  in  other  high  communion,  and  I 
was  as  unconscious  of  time  in  the  one  as  in  the  other. 
When  I  came  to  the  end,  pouring  out  that  last  experi- 
ence of  my  soul;  there  was  silence  after  the  prolonged 
notes  of  victory,  and  I  became  suddenly  conscious  of 
being  surrounded. 

"  Presently  the  words,  '  Inimitable !  superb  !  glori- 
ous i'  and  so  on,  came  to  my  ears,  and  I  heard  myself 
praist-d  for  what  I  seemed  to  have  been  rather  chief 
auditor  than  performer  of.  Mr.  Hunt-ley — the  cham- 
pion, as  he  is  sometimes  jokingly  called,  came  to  my 
side,  and  with  some  words  of  unmeasured  warmth,  ex- 
pressed tlb0,  pleasure  I  had  given  them  all.  There  was 
a  general  murmur  of  voices  and  movement,  and  I  won- 
dered that  Leonard  did  not  appear. 

"  4  We  should  like  to  hear  something  else,  Madam,' 
said  Mr.  Hedding.  So  skillful  a  hand  must  have  many 
such  pleasures  in  its  gift.' 

"  I  did  not  say,  of  course,  what  was  true — that  it 
was  the  soul,  and  not  the  hand,  that  had  furnished  the 
last ;  but  feeling  constrained  by  the  request  and  the 
waiting  presences,  I  laid  a  piece  of  Mendelssohn  before 
me,  and  played  it.  It  was  mechanically  done,  and  not 
very  well,  for  my  hand  needs  practice  sadly,  except 
when  the  spirit  moves  it ;  and  when  it  was  over,  the 
men,  with  thanks,  again  withdrew  to  their  segars,  poli- 
tics, railroads,  and  mines,  and  we  were  left  alone,  as  I 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  4:51 

thought,  till  I  heard  a  step,  and  felt  Leonard  bending 
over  me. 

"  '  I  have  never  heard  you  touch  a  piano  before, 
Eleanore,'  he  said,  speaking  low  ;  '  but,  tell  me,  what 
was  that  wonderful  first  piece  ?' 

"  i  It  has  no  name,'  I  said. 

"  '  Then  it  was  an  improvisation.  I  thought  so — it 
spoke  so  clearly  to  my  soul.  I  could  not  come  to  you 
at  the  moment — the  music  moved  me  too  deeply.  Do 
you  play  much  in  that  way  ?' 

"  '  Not  much  in  any  way,'  I  replied,  *  since  I  left 
home.' 

"  I  remembered  then,  Anna,  playing  at  Mrs.  Hol- 
man's,  and  how  you  recognized  the  expression  of  that 
performance ;  and  I  told  him  that  I  had  played  so  but 
once  before  since  I  had  known  him. 

" ;  This  is  a  pleasure,'  he  said,  '  I  never  dreamed  of 
enjoying  with  you.  It  has  taken  me  by  surprise.  We 
are  apt,  perhaps,  to  undervalue  the  musical  taste  and 
culture  of  Americans ;  but  I  would  not  shrink  from 
comparing  that  performance  with  one  of  the  same 
character  by  any  unprofessional  artist  in  Paris  or 
London.' 

u '  It  is  rather  a  gift,'  I  said,  i  than  a  power — 
which  in  music  must  be  the  result  of  a  talent,  as  we 
call  it,  richly  cultivated.  Apart  from  something  like 
this,  I  make  no  pretensions.  I  am  not  a  bit  of  an  art- 
ist, Leonard.' 

" '  We  might  differ  about  that,'  he  said,  '  if  there 
were  time;  but  we  left  an  important  question  sus- 
pended in  mid-discussion,  when  you  summoned  us,  and 
I  must  return  to  my  part  in  it.' 

"  So  ended  the  evening,  dear  Anna ;  and  you  ought 
— indeed,  now,  you  ought — to  be  more  thankful  than 
I  fear  you  are,  for  being  so  faithfully  remembered  in 
these  full  and  happy  days.  In  my  next  letter,  you 
will  have  that  long  talk  and  its  results,  so  far  as  they 
are  discernible  at  the  writing. 

"  Do  you  often  consider,  dear,  how  foolishly  we 
speak  of  the  effect  of  ideas  ?  We  talk  with  a  person 
for  the  purpose  of  introducing  certain  thoughts  and 


452  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

feelings  into  his  or  her  life.  We  spend  an  hour 
— may  be  two  or  three — and  we  go  away  at  last,  dis- 
appointed and  disheartened.  When  we  speak  of  the 
interview,  we  say,  ;  I  tried  to  show  a  truth  to  that  soul, 
but  without  avail.  My  words  fell  upon  ears  of  stone.' 

"  Shallow  lamentation  !  We  sow  the  seed,  and  ex- 
pect to  see  the  bloom  in  a  day.  We  will  not  patiently 
look  along  the  line  of  stormy  or  tranquil  years  that 
stretch  before,  to  see  how,  by-and-by,  in  some  unex- 
pected hour  and  place,  there  shall  spring  up  a  sweet 
flower,  or  a  clinging  vine,  or  a  vigorous  young  forest 
tree,  to  testify  to  our  righteous  husbandry.  I  believe 
no  word  spoken  for  truth  is  ever  utterly  lost.  It  will 
germinate  somewhere  in  the  kingdom  of  life,  and  add 
to  it  beauty  or  strength,  or  both. 

"  Phil,  hearing  your  name  frequently  mentioned 
so  aifectionately  between  Leonard  and  me,  has  actually 
taken  to  teasing  for  you  lately,  and  he  has  entered  into 
treaty  with  Clara,  I  believe,  to  join  him — so  that  al- 
most every  day  I  am  questioned,  entreated,  and  some- 
times positively  worried  by  the  little  rogues,  about  you. 
Will  you  come,  dear  friend,  when  the  time  you  named 
to  Leonard  is  expired?  If  you  should  desire  it,  you 
could  have  this  situation,  or  another  as  good,  without 
difficulty ;  but  I  shall  claim  you  for  rny  own  for  awhile, 
wherever  I  may  then  be.  How  would  you  like  the 
mountains  for  a  few  months  ?  At  any  rate  come,  dear 
Anna,  when  you  feel  you  can. 

"  I  am  invited  now  very  frequently,  since  it  is  un- 
derstood who  I  am  to  be,  by-aud-by.  Even  my  good, 
Mrs.  Rowe  made  a  point  of  sending  for  me  from  the 
school-room,  at  her  last  visit,  instead  of,  as  before, 
leaving  her  card,  with  my  name  written  upon  it. 

"  I  have  not  been  out  yet,  nor  do  I  intend  going  at 
present.  Leonard  does  not  worship  society  or  position, 
and  when  I  say,  '  Shall  I  go  this  evening  here  or 
there  ?'  he  says  with  his  tongue,  l  By  all  means,  if 
you  like  to,  Eleanore '  :  but  with  his  eyes  he  says  as 
plainly,  '  Will  it  not  be  so  much  happier  being  by  our- 
selves here?'  And  I  always  answer  to  the  eyes,  and 
not  the  tongue.  Yours  ever,  ELEANORE." 


CHAPTEK  LIY. 

"  The  three  days  are  gone,  Anna,"  she  said,  in  her 
next,  "  but  the  arrangements  spin  out  through  two  or 
three  more,  I  suppose,  and  as  I  see  him  every  day,  I 
let  times  and  events  take  their  course. 

"  On  Sunday  last  we  went  to  the  Protestant  chapel. 
It  is  not  quite  lawful  to  call  it  a  church — the  Romish 
Church  refusing  to  recognize  it  for  that,  and  the  gov- 
ernment, in  suffering  it  to  be  established,  actually  re- 
fusing to  it  the  proportions  and  general  architectural 
character  of  sacred  edifices.  It  is  a  low,  one  story 
wooden  building,  on  the  hill  in  the  part  of  the  town 
mostly  occupied  by  foreigners :  painted  brown,  and 
looking  more  like  a  rambling,  lawless  cottage-house, 
than  a  building  for  religious  worship. 

"  The  congregation  was  small,  but  there  was  a  large 
proportion  of  cultivated,  refined  faces  among  those 
who  composed  it.  This  is  a  British  naval  station, 
you  know.  There  is  an  English  war  vessel  of  immense 
size  lying  in  the  harbor  at  present,  and  several  smaller 
ones  are  always  kept  here  or  cruising  on  the  coast. 
This  brings  a  good  many  cultivated  men  and  a  few 
families  into  the  English  congregation  ;  and  then  there 
are  physicians,  lawyers,  merchants,  and  travelers — an 
undue  proportion  of  the  latter,  just  now,  on  their  way 
to  California. 

"  The  services  are  conducted  by  a  minister  who  is 
not  called  a  Rector,  or  Vicar,  or  Curate ;  but  a  Chap- 
lain. He  is  a  slight,  pale,  intellectual  looking  man,  with 
a  gentle,  kindly  face,  which  greatly  won  us.  His  ser- 
mon was  both  earnest  and  polished  ;  but  its  staple  wa^ 
drawn  from  the  past,  where,  according  to  the  doctrine  i 


454:  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

of  his  church,  are  garnered  man's  hopes  of  salvation. 
The  good  man  is  stifled,  walled  within  his  creed,  and 
dare  not  rub  off  the  mold  of  the  ages,  lest  some  of  his 
piety  should  go  with  it.  Leonard  and  I  agreed,  walk- 
ing homeward,  that  however  honest  and  good  and  pure 
it  was,  the  day  for  such  teaching  was  passing  away. 
It  is  observable,  I  think,  everywhere — here,  as  well  as 
at  home,  that  it  takes  less  hold  on  the  mind  than  it 
used  to.  People  sit  and  hear  of  awful  judgments,  and 
penalties,  and  wrath,  and  ruin ;  but,  dear  friend,  they 
don't  believe  them!  And  I  respect  them  for  it. 
Leonard  laughed  at  my  remarking  how  comfortably 
this  little  congregation,  which  does  not,  I  suppose, 
contain  many  progressive  people,  took  its  damnation. 
The  people  looked  complacently  at  him  who  was  show- 
ing them  what  they  deserved,  and  would  certainly  get, 
if  God's  wrath  were  not  averted,  and  seemed,  by  their 
placid  faces  of  assent,  to  say, '  Yes,  that  is  right ;  it  is 
quite  according  to  the  canons ;  but  on  the  whole,  we 
will  not  disturb  ourselves — at  least  not  now' — when,  if 
they  wholly  believed  what  he  was  saying,  the  most 
fearful  demonstrations  could  not  have  expressed  the 
agony  they  ought  to  have  been  in. 

"  We  concluded  that  the  indications  from  all  quar- 
ters showed  that  the  gospel  of  fear  is  going  out,  and 
the  gospel  of  love  coming  in ;  and  that  teachers  who 
would  remain  teachers,  will  have  to  change  their 
direction  hastily  by-and-by,  or  find  themselves  left 
aside  from  the  great  moving  current  as  obstructions 
instead  of  helps. 

"  It  is  one  of  my  most  substantial  causes  of  thankful- 
ness that  Leonard,  who  has  such  a  strong  religious  life, 
is  emancipated  in  it.  We  have  agreed,  while  we  re- 
main in  this  country,  to  be  preachers  to  each  other. 

"  It  was  arranged  on  this  Sunday,  that  we  should 
go  out  on  horseback  on  Monday  afternoon,  I  beginning 
my  lessons  an  hour  earlier  for  that  purpose.  It  is  not 
allowable  in  this  country,  oil  account  of  the  low  moral 
condition,  I  suppose,  that  any  unmarried  man  and 
woman,  shall  go  out  together  alone.  Suspicion  is  thus 
elevated  into  a  social  institution,  which  cannot  be  set 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  455 

at  naught,  without  loss  of  caste.  So  Mr.  Huntley,  who 
is  really  a  most  noble  fellow,  and  who  commends  him- 
self anew  to  me  every  time  I  see  him,  was  invited  to 
invite  somebody,  and  accompany  us.  We  started  at 
two,  and  were  out  till  nine,  dining  at  a  tavern  about 
ten  miles  hence,  which  is  much  resorted  to,  and  riding 
altogether  about  thirty  miles.  It  was  one  of  the 
pleasantest  days  of  my  life,  dear  Anna.  Leonard  loves 
the  natural  world  as  much  as  I  do.  He  is  enthusiastic 
about  skies,  landscapes,  and  forests — sensitive  to  cer- 
tain airs  as  I  am,  and  can  take  a  long  holiday  by  the 
sea-shore,  or  on  the  mountains,  or  in  the  forest,  with  as 
keen  a  relish  of  it  and  all  its  accessories,  as  any  soul  I 
ever  saw. 

"  His  life  is  so  healthy  and  active — thoughtfulness 
tempering  and  elevating  all  enjoyment  into  a  sort  of 
religion,  which  may  be  grave  or  gay,  according  to  the 
outward  genialities  of  the  time  and  place,  that  he  is 
one  of  the  most  delightful  companions,  apart  from  his 
near  and  sweet  relation  to  me.  I  find  him  so  esteemed 
among  the  men  to  whom  he  is  known.  ~No  excursion 
or  party  of  the  best  is  complete  without  him  ;  yet  Mr. 
Hedding  told  me  confidentially  that  he  never  partici- 
pates in  or  approaches  their  occasional  dissipation; 
never  does  nor  says  himself,  or  encourages  in  any  other 
what  the  presence  of  the  purest  women  would  forbid — 
a  high  test  of  character,  I  take  it,  Anna,  in  a  man  of  the 
world,  as  he  preeminently  is. 

"  You  do  not  know  how  much  all  this  encourages 
and  assures  me.  For  though  I  should  love  him  no 
less  were  he  in  some  respects  less  complete,  yet  I  feel 
in  these  many  and  beautiful  sides  to  his  life,  a  wealth 
of  resource  and  promise  for  the  future,  which  I  can 
scarcely  estimate  to  you.  If  only  now  the  life  is  spared 
to  us  to  enjoy  all.  But  I  am  talking  of  him  instead  of 
what  I  saw.  It  is  not  that  I  love  nature  less,  but 
— you  know  the  rest. 

"  The  roads  here  are  often  only  mule  paths,  leading 
through  canons  and  across  ravines  that  look  inaccessi- 
ble from  the  hills  whence  you  are  obliged  to  descend 
into  them.  The  horses  are  curiously  trained  to  gallop 


4:56  THE   IDEAL    A1TAINED. 

up  and  down  the  roughest  paths.  A  timid,  or  even  a 
prudent  rider,  would  hold  it  expedient,  joining  such  a 
reckless  party  as  ours  was,  to  settle  his  temporal  con- 
cerns before  leaving  home ;  for  certainly,  many  times 
in  the  course  of  the  day,  one  fancies  there  is  but  an 
inch  between  him  and  broken  bones.  Yet  these 
splendid  creatures  never  miss  their  footing  in  a  whole 
day  of  such  rashness. 

"  Great  varieties  of  the  cactus  were  in  bloom  upon 
the  barren  hills,  and  beautiful  verbenas,  fuchsias,  pan- 
sies,  moccasin  flowers,  geraniums,  and  low  vine  roses 
sparkled  in  the  valleys  below  them.  Everywhere  we 
saw  the  chaste  oleander,  the  showy  laurustinus,  and  the 
sweet  honey-suckle — every  shrub  a  mass  of  flowers,  so 
healthy,  luxuriant,  and  gay,  that  they  made  our  hearts 
glad  with  their  gladness.  We  rode  through  this  bloom- 
ing wilderness,  sometimes  bending  to  our  saddles  to 
escape  the  sturdier  boughs,  and  again  standing  to 
breathe,  and  gaze  from  some  open  hill-top,  upon  the 
country  spread  below  us — the  prodigal  vales  of  beauty, 
and  the  fields  of  young  wheat,  set  in  the  red  of  the 
arid  hills. 

"  But  to  me,  Anna,  the  grand  feature  of  the  day's 
show — that  which  made  me  often  silent  with  wonder 
and  pleasure,  and  a  wish  to  be  there,  alone  with  Leon- 
ard— was  the  snowy  Andes.  There  they  lay,  stem  and 
silent,  along  the  north-eastern  horizon — their  ancient 
heads  reaching  into  eternal  winter — their  bases  gf- 
with  the  tender  beauty  that  surrounded  us.  Aconcagua, 
the  giant  of  the  American  mountains,  piercing  the  thin 
blue  air  above  us  for  five  miles,  ?nade  even  his  huge 
brother  look  comparatively  diminutive.  How  the  ter- 
rible grandeur  appealed  to  my  imagination  and  my 
heart."  Alone,  with  that  spectacle  before  me,  I  should 
have  knelt  in  silent  worship  of  the  power  that  could 
fashion  it,  and  in  grateful  love  of  the  Beneficence  that 
had  placed  it  there.  I  never  long  for  the  strength  and 
freedom  of  a  man,  but  when  such  a  scene,  which  only 
a  man's  foot  can  fully  explore,  lies  before  me.  What  a 
pleasure,  what  a  long  rapture,  to  climb  to  the  top  of 
that  hoary  mountain — what  ecstacy,  looking  clown 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  457 

thence  upon  the  far-off  world,  to  bathe  the  soul  in  that 
misty  solitude  by  day,  and  drink  in  its  starry  mysteries 
by  night !  I  realized  there  the  life  that  said  of  itself: 

"  '  Where  rose  the  mountains,  there  to  him  were  friends, 
Where  rolled  the  ocean,  thereon  was  his  home.' 

"  I  became  a  poet  within,  when  gazing  on  this  scene, 
and  felt,  more  keenly,  I  think,  than  ever  before,  that  they 
are  among  the  happiest  of  earth's  children  who  can  find 
harmonious  utterance  for  such  emotions  as  pained  me 
in  my  cold  silence.  Tt  was  a  high  question  then,  which 
my  soul  could  not  get  answered,  why  feeling  should  so 
immeasurably  exceed  the  power  of  expression. 

"  I  asked  it  of  Leonard,  when  we  were  riding  by 
ourselves  in  the  evening,  and  the  answer  he  made  was 
the  only  selfish  one  I  ever  heard  from  his  lips :  i  If  you 
were  a  poet  in  speech  as  you  are  in  heart,  Eleanore,  I 
fear  you  would  be  too  far  from  me.' 

" Yesterday  he  came  out  after  dinner,  for  a 

whole  uninterrupted  evening  with  me  alone.  i  I  am 
clear  now,  dear  Eleanore,'  he  said,  as  he  drew  me  to  his 
heart.  '  All  the  worldly  care  for  to-day,  and  for  many 
days,  is  gone  at  last.  The  morning  settled  it,  and  now 
we  are  our  own  again  for  a  time.  Antonio  is  coming 
to  take  Phil  for  a  ride,  and  I  want  you  all  to  myself, 
for  this  whole  evening,  for  that  formidable  talk  which 
was  so  dreaded  a  week  ago,  or  if  riot  that,  any  other, 
in  which  this  soul  can  come  to  mine.  I  am  longing 
for  your  voice  and  words,  after  these  tiresome  days  of 

•  5 

business. 

"  '  Happiness  like  ours,  dear  Leonard,'  I  said,  '  is  a 
great  and  beautiful  gift — is  it  not  ?  How  I  pity  those 
who  never  know  it.  It  would  now  be  such  a  weary 
thing  to  attempt  to  wear  out  life  without  you,  when  even 
your  coming  lights  up  all  the  present,  and  fills  every  cor- 
ner of  my  heart  with  music  and  joy.  There  is  a  question 
you  have  wished  sometimes  to  ask  me,  I  know ;  but 
would  not  because  of  your  womanly  consideration  for 
me.  Is  there  not  now  ?  And  I  looked  clear  into  his 
frank  eyes,  which  did  change  and  falter  a  little  before 
mine  ;  but  he  sat  without  speaking,  and  I  said,  '  Shall 
I  answer  without  being  asked  C 
20 


458  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 


"  '  Yes,  if  you  know  what  it  is,  witch.' 

"  i  Then  I  will.     No,  I  never  loved  before !' 

"  He  started,  and  involuntarily  dropped  the  hand  he 
was  holding  in  his.  '  Were  you  then  ever  capable  of 
marrying  without  loving  ?' 

"  '  Yes ;  but  not  without  believing  fully  that  I  did. 
And  I  was  blest  above  everything,  but  this  present  lot, 
in  being  able  entirely  to  respect  the  man  whom  I  called 
husband.' 

"  He  picked  up  the  abandoned  hand  and  carried  it 
to  his  lips.  '  You  were  then  a  fortunate  woman,  Elea- 
nore.  My  knowledge  of  life  has  convinced  me  that 
that  is  very  rarely  the  case  with  men  or  women  who 
make  the  mistake  you  did.  And,  dear  heart,  how 
many,  many  there  are  of  them  !' 

"  '  Yes,  more  than  we  dream  of  till  we  search  below 
the  surface,  whose  lying  smoothness  conceals  the  un- 
rest, the  loathing,  and  even  torture,  in  which  many 
proud  hearts  wear  themselves  into  bitterness,  or  de- 
pravity, or  stony  coldness.' 

"  '  I  escaped  such  a  fate  myself,  years  as;o,  Eleanore  ; 
'  very  narrowly  escaped  it ;  and  though  I  have  many 
times  been  most  devoutly  thankful  for  that  fortune,  I 
never  did  so  rapturously  appreciate  it  as  when  first  I 
heard  these  lips  pronounce  my  name,  and  felt  them 
yielded  to  me  in  that  kiss  which  sealed  the  tacit  prom- 
ise of  our  hearts.' 

"  '  And  this  blessedness,'  said  I,  '  which  is  so  rare 
and  dear  to  us,  is  worthy  all  nurture,  is  it  not  ?  Amid 
all  the  offices  and  duties  and  pleasures  of  the  life  we  are 
entering  upon,  dost  thou  see  any  to  compare  with 
those  which  may  preserve  to  each  of  us  in  the  other 
what  we  may  rejoice  in  to-day  ?' 

"  '  Nothing  comparable  to  it,  my  queen.' 

u  '  It  is  of  that  I  would  speak ;  and,  Leonard,  I 
prove  my  exalted  estimate  of  thy  manhood  in  what  I  am 
about  to  say  ;  wilt  thou  accept  my  earnest  and  plain 
word,  as  a  like  testimony  to  my  womanhood  ?' 

"  '  All  thy  speech  is  that  to  me,'  he  replied,  bending, 
with  a  fond,  caressing  movement,  over  me — the  more 
tenderly,  I  suppose,  to  remove  the  hesitancy  he  felt  yet 
lingering  in  my  mind. 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  459 

"  '  We  are  so  apt,'  I  said,  *  to  measure  acting  and 
speaking  by  conventional  standards,  that  often  the 
honest  soul  lacks  courage  to  do  and  say  the  highest 
or  most  unusual  right  thing,  from  dread  of-this ;  and 
women  have  so  long  accepted,  in  the  sacred  relation  of 
marriage,  a  position  which  ignores  their  individual  life 
and  freedom,  that  I  feel  I  risk  the  perfectly  candid,  un- 
prejudiced judgment  even  of  a  soul  as  large  and  free  as 
thine,  in  asking  for  any  other ;  but  I  must  be  heard, 
with  whatever  consequences,  on  this  subject,  which  so 
nearly  concerns  us  both ;  I  must  speak  from  my  heart, 
and  may  God  give  me  power  to  reach  thine.' 

"  I  sat  erect  beside  him,  holding  his  hands  and  look 
ing  into  his  questioning  eyes,  which  were  fixed  unwa 
veringly  upon  mine.  '  I  could  not,  dear  Leonard, 
accept  the  position  I  have  named  ;  and  feeling  that,  it 
is  every  way  an  obligation  of  mine  to  say  this  now. 
The  position  of  my  sex  in  these,  as  in  all  other  mat- 
ters, was  fixed  ages  ago,  when  the  external  life  and  its 
capacity  in  material  power  were  at  once  the  proof  and 
measure  of  right ;  and  it  has  been  only  very  slowly 
modified  since,  even  among  the  best  peoples  ;  laws  are 
more  friendly  to  us  than  they  were  ;  custom  does  not 
rivet  her  fetters  upon  all  souls  with  so  merciless  a  hand 
as  she  was  wont ;  and  society,  seeing  woman  prove 
herself  in  many  and  various  ways  worthy  her  preten- 
sions, looks  with  more  toleration  upon  her  than  for- 
merly— hopeful  signs  for  us  of  transition  to  a  truer  and 
larger  life.  But  in  attaining  so  much,  some  of  us  have 
conceived  the  desire  for  more;  and  thou,  who  hast 
adopted  into  thy  heart  one  of  these  outlaws  of  the  old, 
shouldst  see  and  know  whereto  her  heart  and  mind 
will  tend,  when  she  shall  have  entered  wholly  within 
the  sacred  circle  of  thy  love. 

"  '  I  see,  dear  friend,  in  other  phases  of  it,  perhaps, 
and  in  less  measure,  as  my  acquaintance  with  the 
world  is  narrower,  the  same  disappointment  of  human 
hopes  and  affections  in  the  institution  of  marriage  that 
you  lament.  I  see  ardent  love  dwindle,  perish,  and 
change,  by  slow  degrees,  through  the  lapse  of  years, 
when  not  more  quickly,  into  coolness,  indifference,  and 


460  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

finally  loathing.  Ah,  how  one  shudders  in  contempla- 
ting this  change !  What  uncounted  ages  of  agony  must 
have  been  endured  by  those  who  have  passed  through 
it !  I  see  -men  held  to  the  family,  as  an  institution,  by 
the  whole  body  of  family  ties,  rather  than  from  deep, 
personal  love  to  the  wife  and  mother.  I  see  women — and 
this  is  to  my  heart  the  most  painful  sight — all  the  deli- 
cate bloom  and  spontaneousness  of  life  crushed  out  of 
them — spiritless,  abject,  narrow,  because  of  the  impov- 
erished inner  state — held  to  the  family  by  the  maternal 
ties  alone,  their  weary  feet  beset  with  the  cries  and 
needs  of  imperfect,  ill-conditioned  offspring — and  so 
wearing  out  life,  and  welcoming  the  near  approach  of 
death,  when  all  the  external  or  world-seen  conditions 
with  them  are  brimming  with  hope  and  promise. 

" '  Oh,  Leonard,  this  is  the  crowning  outrage  to 
which  we  have  been  doomed — this  of  compulsory  ma- 
ternity. Many  a  woman  who  would  be  blest  as  the 
mother  of  two  or  three  children,  wears  out  her  exist- 
ence in  bearing  and  rearing  a  large  family.  She  could 
have  bestowed  care  and  culture  upon  herself  and  them, 
in  the  first  instance ;  now  she  is  unable  to  do  either. 
She  had  power,  life,  health,  courage,  in  ample  measure, 
for  the  few  her  heart  would  have  prayed  for ;  but  these 
gifts  are  poor  and  stinted  in  the  many.  She  would 
have  grown  in  all  the  experiences  which  of  right  ought 
to  be  hers  as  a  mother,  had  she  exercised  that  holy 
power  in  the  spontaneous  freedom  of  her  own  nature, 
only  ;  but  she  dwindles  under  the  constraint  and  bur- 
den that  are  laid  upon  her.  She  would  have  pre- 
served the  health,  beauty,  and  geniality  of  her  youth, 
and  they  would  have  lighted  and  sweetened  her  de- 
clining years  ;  but  she  is  now  the  enfeebled  shadow  of 
herself.  Her  children  are  born  of  her  material  being 
alone.  They  lack  the  wealth  of  spontaneous  love, 
courage,  hope,  reverence  —beauty  which  should  be 
theirs — the  legacy  of  her  highest  spiritual  life  to  them. 
They  are  imperfect  beings,  wanting  magnanimous  trust 
in  God  or  man  ;  wanting  generous  faith  in  life ; 
wanting  the  inner  strength  which  alone  can  bear 
the  aspiring  soul  firmly  and  brightly  above  the  storms 
that  bend  and  darken  it — above  its  own  errors  and 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  461 

sins,  making  it  feel  that  it  is  greater  than  any  deed — 
dearer  to  God  than  any  vengeance. 

"  '  Ah,  Leonard,  herein  is  great  wrong  done  to  hu- 
manity, as  well  as  to  us.  Do  not  doubt  it.  The  mo- 
ther who  so  directly  and  inevitably  acts  for  God  to 
her  children,  should  have  a  godlike  freedom  in  her 
action. 

"  '  We  cannot  blind  ourselves  to  the  mournful  truth 
that  there  is  a  frightful  usurpation  of  low  rule  in  the 
nature  of  man,  and  that  woman  is  often  the  victim  of 
this  misrule — woman  in  what  we  call  virtuous  and 
honorable  life,  as  well  as  those  unhappy  ones  who  are 
equally  our  sisters,  and  who  were  once  somewhere 
equally  beloved  as  we  are. 

"  '  Our  life  is  a  compound  gift,  dear  friend — a  union 
of  the  finite  with  the  infinite — and  any  not  base  rela- 
tion of  two  beings  must  partake  of  both.  We  love  the 
person  of  our  friend,  whether  of  our  own  or  the  oppo- 
site sex ;  we  clasp  the  hand  or  kiss  the  lips  with  a 
pleasure  proportioned  to  the  intensity  of  our  affection, 
which  is  the  infinite  fact.  And  I  believe  no  relation 
can  be  true  and  lasting,  glorifying  those  who  sustain 
it,  in  which  the  spiritual  does  not  predominate. 
I  would  have  mine  to  thee  stand  high  above  all  possi- 
bility of  harm  from  the  material.  The  noble  form  on 
which  I  look  with  pride  as  well  as  love,  shall  no  wise 
cloud  or  hinder  the  soul  I  am  seeking  in  thee.  I  would 
not  have  one  of  its  demands  jar  the  spirit-harmony 
which  makes  thee  now  the  most  welcome  object  to  my 
eyes  and  soul  that  the  earth  contains.  I  would  not 
have  the  delicate  bloom  of  our  love  irreverently  or 
carelessly  brushed  away  by  the  usurping  sense,  for  all 
else  that  life  can  offer  us. 

"  '  And  is  there  need  or  excuse  that  it  should  be  ? 
Hath  not  the  dear  fatherly  and  motherly  God  widened 
and  filled,  with  a  divine  munificence,  the  circle  of  our 
happy  experiences,  that,  when  all  are  brought  to  dis- 
till their  essence  into  our  souls,  no  one  need  be  repeated 
to  satiety  ?  Have  we  not  pure  spiritual  love,  which 
would  make  the  thought  of  thee,  wert  thou  altogether 
gone  from  me,  a  deep  and  lasting  joy  ?  Have  we  not 
parental  love,  which  comes  into  the  soul  of  man  and 


4:62  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

woman  as  the  sun's  warmth  to  the  unfolding  flower  ? 
Have  we  not  thought,  and  its  various  expression  ?  as- 
piration, with  its  sacred  fires?  achievement,  with  its 
rich  contentments  ?  self-denial,  with  its  satisfying  re- 
wards ?  hope,  with  its  promises  ?  faith,  with  its  yearn- 
ings and  victories  ?  nature,  with  all  her  glory  and  ten- 
derness ?  art,  with  her  splendors  ?  knowledge,  with  her 
attractions  ? — and  shall  the  soul  so  provided  for  de- 
scend to  the  slavish,  withering  indulgence  of  mere 
sense — substituting  that  for  all  or  any  of  these  high 

J°.TS  ? 

"  '  O  dear  friend  and  hope  of  my  life,  I  know  thou 

art  not  a  sensualist !  It  is  not  written  in  this  face, 
which  I  look  unshrinkingly  into,  because  manly,  heal- 
thy thought  and  emotion  answer  me  there.  It  has  not 
perverted  the  currents  of  thy  noble  nature  ;  nor  shorn 
thy  spirit  of  its  delicate  outgrowths  toward  the  high 
and  the  pure.  But  I  would  have  all  this  remain  so  in 
thee  and  me  in  the  years  that  are  before  us.  I  would 
ask  that  perfect  respect  shall  continue  between  us,  and 
be  carried  into  all  the  details  which  make  up  the  sum 
of  life  ;  that  my  personal  freedom  toward  thee  be  kept 
as  inviolately  my  own  in  after-time  as  now  ;  and  so, 
when  our  children — the  offspring  of  thy  glorious  man- 
hood— shall  bud  and  blossom  in  our  house,  there  shall 
reign  in  both  our  bosoms  the  proud  consciousness  that 
each  life  there  is  the  free  and  unstinted  gift  of  our 
whole  natures. 

"  i  Canst  thou  accede  to  this  ?' 

"A  light,  half-grave  and  half  smiling,  had  been 
slowly  dawning  in  his  eyes  while  I  was  speaking  the 
last  sentences.  It  had  cost  me  a  great  effort  to  say  all 
this,  Anna,  and  much — very  much  more  that  I  have 
now  forgotten  ;  for  I  did  not  know  how  it  would  be 
received,  even  in  his  large,  unjealous  heart.  But  I  was 
very  happy,  when  I  ceased,  to  be  drawn  to  his  bosom, 
with  words  of  infinite  peace  and  comfort. 

"  '  Corne  to  my  heart,'  he  said,  ;  with  all  thy  de- 
mands. In  our  perfect  love  be  found  the  guarantee  of 
their  satisfaction  :  in  that  and  in  somewhat  here ' — lay- 
ing his  hand  upon  his  breast — 'that  would  shrink  from 


THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED.  463 

enslaving  the  meanest  creature,  and  that  would  rather 
see  thee,  beloved,  dead  and  hidden  from  mortal  eye, 
than  feel  that  one  of  the  high  desires  which  make  thee 
what  thou  art  had  been  violated.  There  have  been 
true  and  noble  men  in  all  time,  Eleanore — rulers  over 
themselves,  and  not  tyrants  over  others.  Dost  thou 
believe  there  are  some  such  yet  ?  and  wilt  thou  trust 
to  having  found  one  ?  I  claim  no  less  than  that  high 
character,  dear  Eleanore,  though  I  should,  perhaps, 
live  years  without  finding  the  time  and  occasion  to  as- 
sert it  in  words.  Do  not  think  me  a  braggart,  dearest, 
for  saying  so  much.  Dost  thou  want  other  assurance, 
or  will  this  supply  its  place  ?' 

"When  next  I  spoke,  they  were  true,  heartfelt 
words  :  '/  am-  at  rest  with  tJiee.  I  dared  not  be  con- 
scious of  demanding  so  much  that  might  not  be  looked 
for,  without  declaring  it  frankly ;  now  I  trust  thee  en- 
tirely.' 

" 4  Thanks  to  thy  fond  woman's  heart  for  those 
words,  and  the  light  of  the  soul  in  those  confiding  eyes, 
that  sanctions  their  meaning  !  I  were  baser  than  the 
basest  to  betray  the  trust  so  given.  But  now,  my  own, 
have  I  not  purchased  the  right  to  be  heard  and  heeded  ? 
I  also  have  somewhat  for  thy  hearing.  Shall  I  speak  ?' 

" '  Go  on,  mocker,'  I  said. 

"  '  Well,  then,  thus  runneth  my  speech.  There  is  a 
wild  and  wondrous  region  of  country,  about  a  hundred 
miles  hence,  to  the  southward,  to  which  I  have  bound 
myself,  by  solemn  contract,  to  repair,  at  the  end  of  ten 
days  from  this  date.  Am  I'  to  go  alone  ?  Tell  me,' 
he  urged,  when  I  did  not  speak,  '  will  you  go  with  me, 
Eleanore  !' 

"  '  Yes,  Leonard.  I  will  cheat  myself  by  some 
vague  notions  of  duty,  because  you  are  not  going  to 
live  in  luxury,  into  the  delight  of  sharing  your  life. 
It  will  be  very  hard,  and  rough,  and  miserable — will  it 
not  ?'  I  said,  piteously. 

"  '  Very,'  he  replied,  with  answering  wretchedness 
of  tones.  '  Yery.  It  would  be  a  noble  piece  of  self- 
sacrifice  to  go  down  there,  and  mitigate  its  hardships.' 

"  ;  Don't  be  impertinent,  sir,'  I  said,  '  nor  ironical, 


464  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

or  you  shall  find  that  I  have  a  clever  hand  at  cor- 
rection.' 

"  *  I  dare  be  sworn  you  have.  It  would  poorly 
second  such  eyes  if  it  were  not ;  and  I  think  I  remem- 
ber the  day  when  you  could  have  used  it  on  my  un- 
lucky ears  with  a  relish — could  you  not  ?' 

4  '  Ah,  yes,  I  could ;  and  the  more,  because  then  I 
loved  you,  rash,  graceless  man.' 

"  *  Did  you,  Eleanore — did  you  ?  How  that  con- 
fession endears  you  to  me !  And  yet,  how  she  fronted 
me,'  lie  continued,  '  with  the  look  of  an  angry  goddess, 
ready  to  annihilate  her  poor  worshiper!' 

"  You  wounded  my  dignity,  sir,  by  that  unmannerly 
kiss.' 

" '  Then,  I  will  heal  it  now  by  a  mannerly  one. 
There !  Will  that  leave  us  clear  scores  for  future 
skirmishing  ?' 

"  He  was  in  the  mood  for  bantering,  and  I  let  him 
go,  to  his  heart's  content,  thinking — there  has  been 
enough -of  solemn  talking  and  thinking,  to  make  play 
the  wisest  and  happiest  change.  Nevertheless,  dear 
Anna,  I  felt  sad,  as  I  always  must  when  there  is  refer- 
ence to  our  experience  on  the  Tempest.  At  any  chance 
mention  of  it,  my  mind  takes  in  for  the  moment  all  the 
anguish  in  which  it  terminated  ;  and  at  this  time,  in 
spite  of  myself  and  my  best  efforts  at  deceiving  him,  I 
grew  sadder  in  heart,  with  the  gay  words  on  my  tongue, 
till  I  saw  I  must  be  overcome  by  my  feelings,  or  break 
through  them  by  a  great  change  of  thought. 

"  l  Leonard,'  said  I,  astonishing  him  out  of  all  pro- 
priety by  the  sudden  and  startling  question,  '  when 
shall* we  be  married?' 

"  i  Heaven  only  knows,  if  you  do  not,'  he  replied  ; 
4  have  you  not  just  promised  to  go  with  me  at  the  end 
of  ten  days  ?  If  you  let  me  name  the  day,  it  will  be 
nine  before  we  have  to  start.' 

"  '  Then  you  can't  do  it,  sir,'  I  said.  '  I  had  a  pass- 
ing fancy  to  try  how  far  you  could  be  trusted  with  a 
power  that  I  shall  exercise  much  more  wisely.' 

"  '  Seriously,  Eleanore,  my  queen,  I  should  like  the 
day,  for  certain  good  reasons,  which  come  from  my 


THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED.  465 

head  purely — and  therefore  I  hope  will  weigh  with 
you,  if  those  of  the  heart  would  not — to  be  as  early  in 
this  short  time  as  you  can  afford.  I  wish  Mrs.  Ander- 
son to  receive  visits  in  the  city  a  few  days  before  she 
goes  to  the  mountains  with  me,  and  I  wish  to  have  one 
long  day's  ride  with  her,  unaccompanied  by  care- 
takers. I  have  promised  myself  the  pleasure  of  show- 
ing her,  all  alone,  the  beauties  of  the  Val  de  Due,  and 
some  mountain-views  that  will  be  new  to  her.  Will 
that  tempt  you,  or  must  I  plead  further  ?' 

"  Will  three  days  in  the  city  suffice  for  the  dignities 
of  the  occasion  ?'  I  asked. 

"  '  Four  would  be  better,'  he  replied,  demurely. 

"  ;  I  believe  you  are  deliberately  entrapping  me,'  I 
said. 

"  '  Be  watchful,  then,'  was  the  provoking  answer; 
'  for  when  I  have  fairly  caught  you,  farewell  to  your 
debating  of  times  and  seasons.  All  shall  then  be  mine 
—all !' 

"  '  Three  days  in  the  city,'  I  repeated. 

" i  Four,'  he  reiterated,  '  and  one  for  the  ride,  and 
another  to  make  preparations.  That  will  give  you 
three  whole  days  after  this  to — to  look  your  fate  in  the 
face.  With  my  help,  I  think  you  can  sustain  them — 
but  do  not  ask  for  more.  You  gave  me  the  question  : 
I  have  decided  it.  Come,  now,  shall  it  not  be  so  ? 
Dear  Eleanore,  he  whispered,  '  if  there  is  no  good  rea- 
son against  it,  let  it  be  as  I  have  said.  My  judgment 
as  well  as  my  love  asks  it,  and  inethinks  I  have  waited 
long  enough.' 

"  '  Very  long,  sir  !  It  is  scarcely  a  year  since  first 
we  saw  each  other.' 

"  i  It  is  fifty,'  he  said,  '  by  all  computation  that  I 
can  make.  It  seems  another  life  so  long  gone  in  the 
past,  when  I  did  not  love  you.' 

20* 


CHAPTEE   LY. 

"  So  it  was  settled,  dear  Anna.  It  was  yesterday, 
and  I  have  to-day  and  to-morrow — for  he  cheated  me 
at  last  out  of  a  day,  as  I  discovered  by  his  laughing  in 
my  face,  this  morning,  when  I  was  counting  on  my 
fingers,  to  settle  it  all  definitely. 

"  '  You  lost  a  day  in  your  reckoning,  Eleanore,'  he 
said,  '  and  it  will  have  to  come  off  this  end  of  the  time, 
because,  you  see,  it  can't  be  lost  at  the  other.' 

"  i  I  never  will  have  faith  in  you  again,'  I  said. 
4  You  are  no  better  than  other  men,  who  think  it 
clever  to  deceive  a  woman.' 

"  How  much  I  need  you  now,  Anna  !  Only  think 
of  my  going  through  all  these  days  amongst  strangers 
— not  a  woman  to  whom  I  can  speak.  La  Signorita 
would  be  kind,  and  is,  as  far  as  her  power  goes ;  but 
that  does  not  meet  my  want.  I  want  an  English 
tongue,  and  a  soul  like  yours,  dear  friend,  to  move  it. 
Leonard  is  hurrying  matters  along,  though  not  helping 
me  much,  by  setting  Phil  to  inquire  if  I  am  going  to 
get  a  papa  for  him  ;  and  he  came  in  just  now  from  the 
garden,  where  they  had  been  walking,  shouting  with 
laughter  at  Phjl's  hot  resentment  of  having  anybody 
for  papa  but  him.  The  argument  had  grown  a  little 
warm  between  them,  and  Phil,  wanting  help  to  sustain 
his  view  of  the  case,  rushed  headlong  into  the  house,  to 
get  final  authority  upon  it. 

"  Isn't  Turnel  Annerson  going  to  be  my  papa  ?'  he 
asked,  with  flushed  face  and  angry  eyes.  *  Isn't  he, 
mamma  ?' 

"  '  Not  unless  he  behaves  exceeding  well  and  oare- 
fully  for  the  next  two  days,  Phil.' 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  467 

" 4  He  will,  mamma — I  believe  lie  will,'  said  the 
poor  child,  anxiously. 

" i  But  you  are  angry  with  him,  Phil.  Do  you 
want  him  now  for  your  papa  ?' 

" '  Yes,  yes,  mamma  dear.  I'm  angry  "betause  I 
love  him.' 

"  *  There's  a  precious  off-shoot  from  the  mother-tree,' 
said  Leonard,  gathering  us  both  into  his  arms,  to  Phil's 
great  joy  and  contentment. 

"  We  are  to  be  married  on  Tuesday  morning,  at  the 
Hotel  du  Kord — receive  a  few  visits  that  day,  and 
the  next,  take  the  promised  ride.  There  will  be  pres- 
ent only  Messrs.  Hedding  and  Huntley,  and  the  Sena- 
nos,  old  and  young ;  the  latter  having  entreated  me  to 
ask  permission  for  them  to  go.  The  good  little  crea- 
tures seem  really  very  much  attached  to  me,  and  look 
quite  sad,  for  a  moment,  when  my  going  is  mentioned. 
Don  Alexandro  and  La  Signorita  both  bid  me  say 
they  hope  you  will  come  and  take  my  place.  They 
like  'Americanos  '  very  much,  they  think,  now. 

"  I  shall  hardly  be  able  to  write  you  again,  my  dear 
sister,  until  I  am  in  the  mountains,  but  I  hope  your 
next  letter  will  bring  us  news  that  you  are  to  sail  be- 
fore the  steamer  following  this  will  reach  you.  It 
would  be  such  a  delight  to  have  you  see  and  know  my 
happiness,  without  being  obliged  to  relate  it  to  you. 

"  Thine,  as  ever,  ELEANORE." 

"  P.  S. — Leonard  stands  over  my  shoulder,  having 
this  moment  come  in,  to  see  that  I  write  you  about 
coming.  He  says,  when  you  arrive,  you  are  to  ask  for 
Mr.  Hedding,  at  the  hotel  I  have  named  ;  or,  in  case 
of  his  absence,  which  is  unlikely,  for  Mr.  Huntley ; 
and  these  gentlemen  will  be  instructed  how  to  send 
you  comfortably  to  us.  You  are  to  come  there  first, 
remember,  and  after  a  long  visit,  I  may  consent,  if  you 
desire  it,  to  your  looking  for  something  to  do.  I  can't 
endure  to  think  of  its  being  more  than  two  months  yet 
before  we  can  see  you,  unless  you  corne  by  steamer, 
which  would  be  attended  with  some  trouble  and  risk 
of  delay,  by  reason  of  the  change  you  have  to  make  at 
Panama.  Adios,  dear  Anna!" 


468  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

When  this  letter  came,  I  was  in  San  Francisco, 
making  preparations  to  sail,  too  full  of  interest  in  the 
voyage  and  its  issue  to  be  capable  of  much  in  anything 
about  me.  The  Marsdens  were  as  kind  and  helpful  as 
ever.  Their  school  had  passed  into  other  hands,  and 
they  were  living  in  the  lower  part  of  Bush  Street, 
which  had  already  grown  from  the  desert  of  a  year 
ago  into  a  thoroughfare. 

The  third  day  of  my  stay  with  them,  as  I  was  sit- 
ting at  a  front  window,  I  saw  a  man,  carefully  wrapped 
up,  walking  slowly  by  their  house,  whose  bearing 
seemed  familiar  to  me.  Afterward  I  observed  him, 
again  and  again,  pass  and  repass.  He  was  evidently 
very  feeble,  and  walked  with  his  face  so  covered  that  I 
did  not  make  him  out  till  I  placed  myself  in  the  door 
one  day,  and  looking  closely  at  him,  saw  that  it  was 
Mr.  Garth.  I  was  too  much  pained  and  surprised  to 
speak  instantly,  and  he  had  passed  by  before  I  could 
decide  that  I  ought  to  have  stopped  him.  When  next 
he  came — and  he  seemed  to  have  regular  times  of  go- 
ing out — I  spoke  to  him  from  the  door,  calling  his 
name. 

He  turned  and  gazed  at  me  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
approaching,  said  :  "  Is  it  Miss  Warren  ?" 

"  It  is,"  I  replied ;  "  and  I  am  very  much  pained 
to  see  your  poor  looks." 

"  I  have  been  very  ill,"  said  he,  "  of  fever,  in  the 
mines,  and  now  I  believe  I  am  dying." 

I  invited  him  in,  and  his  pale  face  blanched  to  a 
still  more  ashy  hue  when  I  told  him,  in  answer  to  his 
inquiries,  that  Mrs.  Bromfield  was  then  no  longer  Mrs. 
Bromfield,  but  Mrs.  Anderson,  living  in  Chili,  and 
that  I  was  going  to  visit  her. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  her  happiness,"  said  the  poor 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  469 

invalid.  "  Anderson  is  a  noble  fellow,  and  worthy  of 
her,  I  believe — which  is  saying  a  great  deal,  Miss  War- 
ren, of  any  man.  But  I  can't  help  feeling  it  bitterly, 
sometimes,  that  I  should  be  left  to  fall  to  the  ground 
alone.  I  had  no  right,  I  know,  to  hope  to  interest  her ; 
but  one  cannot  always  measure  one's  deserts  correctly. 
I  am  not  dying  of  unrequited  love,  though,  Miss  War- 
ren ;  don't  think  it.  I  held  up  and  went  on  very  well, 
till  I  was  imprudent  enough  to  expose  myself  by  work- 
ing in  my  brother's  place,  in  the  water,  on  the  Middle 
Yuba ;  and  that  brought  all  this  on — that,  and  being 
treated  by  some  of  the  murdering  quacks  who  infest 
the  mining  regions." 

I  often  saw  him  afterward,  in  the  few  days  of  my 
stay,  but  he  seemed  to  decline  very  rapidly ;  and 
when  I  sailed,  carrying  kind  messages  to  our  friends, 
and  some  beautiful  presents  to  Phil,  whom  he  yet 
remembered  with  the  old  affection,  I  thought  he 
scarcely  could  survive  a  fortnight.  So  sadly  perished 
the  scholar  and  gentleman. 


CHAPTEE   LYI. 

I  was  more  fortunate  than  either  of  my  friends  had 
been  in  their  passage ;  arriving  early  on  the  thirty -ninth 
day  from  San  Francisco,  I  landed  and  went  in  haste  to 
the  Hotel  du  Nord,  heeding  nothing — scarcely  noting 
the  strange  aspect  of  the  foreign  city,  and  anxious 
only  to  find  one  or  other  of  the  gentlemen  who  had 
been  named  to  me,  and  get  on  the  road  as  quickly  as 
possible  to  my  dear  Eleanore,  and  her  husband  and 
child,  all  whom  my  heart  longed  to  embrace.  I  sat  in 
the  public  parlor  half  an  hour,  which  seemed  as  long 
as  half  a  day  would  at  other  times,  waiting,  while  a 
lively  Chileno  girl  was  searching,  or  pretending  to 
search  the  house,  for  Mr.  Hedding.  I  thought  it  must 
be  large,  and  the  man  must  have  strange  habits,  if  it 
takes  all  this  time  to  ascertain  whether  he  is  within  or 
not.  At  last  I  said  to  myself,  I'll  just  step  along  the 
passage  to  that  room  where  the  chatter  is  going  on  so 
incessantly,  and  see  if  anything  can  be  learned  there. 
I  knocked  at  the  door,  and  when  it  was  opened,  three 
servants,  two  girls,  and  a  waiter,  with  a  white  apron 
before  him,  presented  themselves,  all  olive  or  between 
olive  and  brown  in  color. 

"Mr.  Hedding,"  I  said,  speaking  the  name  very 
distinctly. 

"  listed  quiere  ?"  said  the  man.  I  did  not  know 
what  this  was ;  but  assuming  that  it  meant  did  I  want 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  471 

the  person  I  had  named,  I  answered  very  emphatically 
"  yes."  Then  in  the  universal  si  si. 

"  Bueno,"  said  he  calmly,  "  Yo  lo  busco." 

I  went  back  to  the  parlor  and  waited  again.  Still 
he  did  not  come,  and  losing  all  patience,  I  returned  to 
the  door,  where,  upon  tapping  once  more,  I  found  the 
same  parties  social  as  ever. 

"  The  man,"  I  said,  and  seeing  I  was  not  under- 
stood, I  spoke  the  name  again,  and  bethought  myself 
to  put  a  shilling  into  the  fellow's  hand.  It  changed 
the  face  of  affairs  as  well  as  of  him  in  a  moment.  I 
returned  again  to  the  parlor,  and  in  a  few  minutes  a 
very  gentlemanly-looking  man,  of  middle  size,  with  a 
head  well  covered  with  snowy  hair,  an  erect  carriage, 
and  quick,  firm  step,  entered  the  room,  with  his  specta- 
cles in  his  hand,  and,  approaching  me,  said,  "  Do  you 
wish  to  see  Mr.  Hedding,  ma'am  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  That  is  my  name." 

I  handed  him  my  card.  "  Ah !"  he  said,  looking 
pleased  and  clear  at  once,  "  you  are  the  friend  of  Mrs. 
Anderson.  You  are  very  welcome.  How  do  you  do  ?" 

I  replied  to  his  welcome  and  inquiries ;  but  told  him 
I  was  more  anxious  to  get  on  the  road  to  my  friends' 
home  than  for  anything  else.  Could  he  tell  me  about 
the  time  or  manner  of  going  ? 

"  You  go  by  stage,  ma'am,  to ,  within  seven 

miles  of  them,  and  there  you  have  to  take  mules.  It 
would  occupy  three  days  at  least — perhaps  a  part  of  the 
fourth.  Mrs.  Anderson  has  written  me  a  note  since 
she  arrived,  giving  a  sketchy  account  of  her  journey, 
which  seems  to  have  been  very  pleasant ;  but  she  was 
going  to  Paradise,  you  know,  ma'am,  and  had  her  arch- 
angel beside  her,  and  a  cherub  with  her,  one  may  say : 


4:72  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

for  the  boy  is  as  charming,  in  his  way,  as  the 
mother." 

Would  he  kindly  ascertain,  I  asked,  the  times  of 
going,  and  inform  me  ? 

"  Yes,  immediately,"  and  he  left  me  for  that  pur- 
pose. My  impatience  increased  during  the  waiting  to 
a  most  uncomfortable  degree.  I  felt  the  slowness  of 
everything  in  this  Spanish  city,  and  wondered  how 
Eleanore's  keen,  fiery  temperament  had  ever  endured  it. 

When  Mr.  Hedding  returned,  he  brought  the  dis- 
heartening news  that  the  diligencia,  as  they  call  a  stage, 
went  but  once  a  week,  and  had  gone  the  day  before. 

"  Then,"  said  I,  feeling  perfectly  unable  to  endure 
the  delay,  "  I  must  hire  some  special  conveyance.  May 
I  ask  your  good  offices  in  this  also  ?" 

"  Certainly,  ma'am.     Do  you  speak  Spanish  ?" 

"  Unfortunately,  not  a  word." 

"  Then  I  fear  you  may  find  some  difficulty  in  get- 
ting along  with  the  people  on  the  road,  unless  I  could 
find  a  driver  who  speaks  a  little  English.  But  even 
then,  they  are  such  a  graceless  set  of  petty  rogues,  from 
first  to  last,  that  you  would  be  at  their  mercy." 

"  If  I  had  Antonio  now,"  I  rather  muttered  than 
said. 

"Ah!  you  mean  Col.  Anderson's  man,  a  trusty, 
faithful  fellow ;  but  he  went  with  them." 

"  What  can  I  do,  sir  ?"  I  asked.  "  I  wish  so  much 
to  go  that  I  wTill  pay  any  reasonable  price,  and  over- 
look many  inconveniences.  I  would  like  to  start  to- 
day— at  once." 

"  I  will  go  out  and  do  the  best  I  can  for  you,"  said 
Mr.  H.,  "but  you  had  better  take  patience  into  the 
counsels  directly ;  for  I  assure  you,  ma'am,  Chili  extras 
and  expresses,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  will  try  any 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  473 

spirit — much  more  an  American's,  because  we  are  the 
people,  of  all  the  world,  for  dispatch  and  impromptu 
proceedings  in  these  things."  I  had  it  on  my  tongue 
to  say  that  he  seemed  to  have  suited  himself  with  en- 
viable success  to  the  temper  of  the  country,  so  deliber- 
ate was  his  speech  and  action,  while  I  was  fretting 
intensely  within,  at  the  prospect  of  delay.  But  I 
restrained  myself,  and  the  good  gentleman,  after  a  few 
more  words,  went  on  his  kind  errand.  It  was  more 
than  an  hour  before  he  came  in,  and  then  he  was 
looking  so  warm,  that  I  hastened  to  cool  him,  as  fast  as 
possible,  with  regrets,  thanks,  apologies,  and  hopes,  all 
poured  out  confusedly  for  his  relief.  He  had  succeeded 
in  finding  and  engaging  a  driver  who  was  called  very 
honest,  "  among  Chilenos,  remember,  ma'am,"  and  had 
selected  a  horse  and  carriage  which  would  be  here  at 
one  o'clock. 

I  was  truly  thankful  for  this  success,  and  with  a 
meekness  and  docility  which  I  am  sure  ought  to  have 
charmed  him  in  any  woman,  I  accepted  his  advice  in 
regard  to  my  luggage,  leaving  most  of  it  to  be  sent  by 
Col.  Anderson's  freight-wagon,  which  went  up  and 
down  twice  a  month.  He  gave  me  a  list  of  the  prices 
I  was  to  pay  on  the  road,  the  amount  my  driver  was  to 
receive,  with  reiterated  charges  not  to  give  him  a  dol- 
lar of  it  till  I  was  ready  to  have  him  leave  me — a  glos- 
sary of  the  few  indispensable  words  I  should  need  to 
use,  and  thus  I  set  off,  with  many  expressed  misgivings 
on  the  part  of  the  good  gentleman  that  I  was  under- 
taking a  rash  and  almost  dangerous  enterprise. 

"  But  I  see,"  he  said,  "  you  are,  in  one  thing,  at 
least,  like  your  charming  friend.  What  you  want  to 
do  must  ~be  done."  He  wished  me  all  manner  of  good 
fortune,  shook  my  hand,  spoke  some  last  words  of 


474:  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

warning,  in  Spanish,  to  the  driver,  and  we  rattled  away 
through  the  streets  of  the  city;  then  over  a  rough 
country,  with  incredibly  bad  roads ;  then  over  a  con- 
siderable plain,  and  finally,  hills  and  rough  roads  again, 
and  so  on,  till  darkness  came  and  hid  everything  from 
my  view  for  at  least  two  hours  and  a  half  before  we 
stopped  for  the  night.  But  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you 
of  the  bed  of  untanned  oxhide  I  had  there,  or  the  break- 
fast, or  the  slow  starting,  or  anything  else  that  worried 
or  amused  me,  but  hasten  on  to  the  end  of  my  jour- 
ney, which  I  am  sure  you  must  wish  to  see  as  much  as 
I  did. 

I  rode  three  days — considerable  part  of  the  last  two 
through  an  unsettled  country  of  towering  mountains, 
with  deep,  fearful  chasms  between  them,  not  wide 
enough  to  deserve  the  name  of  valleys  anywhere,  ex- 
cept in  three  or  four  places,  where  were  clustered  a  few 
huts,  with  now  and  then  a  smartish  adobe  house.  In 
these  spots  gardens  bloomed  and  flourished,  and  here 
and  there  a  few  poorly-fenced  fields  were  redeemed 
from  the  domain  of  nature.  It  rained  slight  showers 
twice,  which  made  the  traveling  much  better  than  it 
could  have  been  two  months  earlier;  and  often,  in 
passing  the  diificult  or  dry,  dusty  places,  where  the 
rain  had  not  fallen,  I  asked  myself — how  did  Eleanore 
go  through  all  this  ? 

But  then  I  remembered  the  archangel,  and  felt 
that  all  was  right  with  her. 

It  was  late  in  the  fourth  evening  when  we  reached 

,  and  I  could  do  nothing  toward  finishing  my 

journey  till  morning  came.  I  had  seen  but  two  per- 
sons beside  Manuel,  rny  driver,  in  the  whole  journey, 
who  could  speak  English ;  and  I  was  very  fearful  I 
should  find  no  one  here.  If  not,  how  was  I  to  get  my 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  475 

further  progress  settled  ?  I  did  not  pay  Manuel  that 
night,  telling  him  I  must  see  him  in  the  morning.  If 
there  were  no  other  chance,  I  must  negotiate  through 
him.  I  slept  well,  for  I  was  very  weary,  and  I  had 
here  the  first  bed  I  had  lain  upon  since  leaving  the 
ship. 

When  I  woke,  the  morning  was  cloudy,  and,  walk- 
ing to  my  window,  my  breath  seemed  to  be  taken 
away  by  the  enormous  hight  of  the  dark,  frowning 
mountain,  that  reared  itself  into  the  mist  and  clouds 
of  the  upper  air,  within  fifty  rods  of  me.  It  was 
raining  above  there,  but  none  had  yet  fallen  where 
I  was,  and  I  hurried  through  my  toilet,  and  set  out  on 
the  labors  of  the  day  with  no  little  anxiety. 

I  could  make  no  one  understand  me,  and  had  to 
hunt  over  the  public  rooms  of  the  Fonda  myself  for 
Manuel.  He  was  not  to  be  seen,  but  men  who  seemed 
to  have  just  left  their  sleep  were  gathering  into  an 
apartment  across  the  hall  from  mine,  and  I  waited  and 
watched  for  sight  of  him,  finding,  after  several  attempts, 
that  it  was  hopeless  to  look  for  any  other  means  of 
making  my  wants  known.  I  could  get  a  stolid,  pa- 
tient hearing  from  any  one  I  met ;  indeed,  they  seemed 
rather  pleased  to  have  an  excuse  for  stopping  so  long 
from  their  sauntering,  lazy  motion  ;  but  it  always 
ended  in — "No  sabe,  Signorita — no  tiende — no  Ingles." 

What  on  earth  am  I  to  do  if  he  doesn't  come  ? — 
I  asked  myself;  but  then  I  remembered  thankfully 
that  I  had  been  prudent  enough  to  keep  his  money, 
which  was  the  surest  possible  guarantee  that  I  should 
see  him  by-and-by. 

I  was  looking  anxiously  from  the  door,  and  being 
looked  at  in  return  by  some  not  pleasant  eyes — a  wo- 
man of  my  color  being  rarely  seen  there — wThen,  sud- 


4Y6  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

denly,  I  was  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  a  Saxon  face. 
The  man  who  wore  it  was  a  sort  of  halt- way  gentleman 
in  his  garb,  and  seemed  to  have  some  business  in  hand, 
for  he  was  walking  more  like  a  live  person  than  any- 
body I  had  seen  since  leaving  the  city.  He  had  en- 
tered the  street,  or  plaza,  where  I  stood,  a  little  below, 
and  was  moving  away  in  the  opposite  direction,  so 
that  I  had  but  one  resource,  and  that  was  to  follow 
and  accost  him  instantly. 

"Pray,  sir,"  I  said,  when,  by  hastening — to  the 
wonder  of  everybody — I  had  overtaken  him,  "  do  you 
speak  English  ?" 

"  Yes  " — with  a  look  of  unequivocal  surprise. 

"  Then,  will  you  have  the  kindness  to  give  me  a  lit- 
tle help  ?  I  arrived  here  last  evening,  on  my  way  to 
El  Mino  Yalverde— " 

"  Ah  !  that  is  our  place — Col.  Anderson's,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  The  very  same,"  I  said,  almost  unable  to  believe 
in  my  good  fortune.  "  Do  you  belong  there  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  one  of  his  foremen,  and  am  down  with 
a  team  and  some  of  the  hands,  after  machinery." 

"  Then  you  can  help  me  to  some  means  of  going 
out,  can  you  not?     I  am  an  old  friend  of  Mrs.  An 
derson." 

"  Are  you  Miss  Warren,  whom  they  expect  from 
California?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  there  is  an  old  shipmate  of  yours  here  now 
— Antonio;  he  came  down  with  us  yesterday,  and 
spoke  of  you  on  the  road  ;  I  will  send  him  to  the  Fonda, 
and  he  will  be  able  to  do  everything  for  you ;  I  sup- 
pose you  would  like  to  be  on  the  road  soon  ?" 

"  Yes,  as  quick  as  possible  ;  but  do  you  drive  wa- 
gons all  the  way  ?" 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  477 

"  Our  heavy  teams  we  do ;  but  there  is  no  road  that 
a  light  wagon  could  go  over,  and  passengers  always  go 
on  mules.  Mrs.  Anderson  went  on  one." 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  I  will  try  it— though  I  am 
not  a  rider.  Can  you  put  a  trunk  into  your  wagon  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  anything  you  have  can  go  with  us ; 
but  you  could  not  stand  our  slow  travel.  It  will  be 
well  on  to  five  o'clock  by  the  time  we  get  up,  and 
you  will  go  in  two  hours,  or  two  arid  a  half." 

I  accordingly  returned  to  the  house,  paid  Manuel, 
who  soon  appeared,  and,  having  got  him  to  order  me 
coffee  and  eggs  for  breakfast,  I  sat  down  to  wait  for 
Antonio. 

There  was  a  kind  of  aching  expectation  in  all  my 
nerves.  I  was  not  more  than  half  sensible  to  the  won- 
ders and  grandeur  of  the  spot  I  was  in,  though  I  looked 
at  the  awful  mountains  with  my  face  right  up  to  hea- 
ven, and  followed  out  with  my  eye  a  zig-zag  path  up 
the  precipitous  side  of  one,  which  I  greatly  feared  was 
the  very  one  I  should  have  to  try,  by-and-by,  on  a 
perilous  mule's  back. 

Before  my  breakfast  was  brought  in,  Antonio  came. 
I  could  almost  have  kissed  the  creature,  I  was  so  heart- 
glad,  in  that  wild,  strange  spot,  of  the  sight  of  his 
honest,  affectionate  face. 

"  Antonio,"  I  said,  "  you  are  a  treasure — you  are 
better  than  gold  to  me  now  !  Sit  down  on  my  trunk  " 
— chairs  are  very  scarce  in  the  Andes  " — and  tell  me 
how  I  am  to  get  out  to  Col.  Anderson's." 

Either  his  English  had  improved  marvelously,  or  it 
was  so  much  better  than  the  vile  attempts  at  it  I  had 
heard  along  the  road,  that  it  seemed  so. 

u  I  got  a  firs'-rate  mule  of  master's  here,"  he  re- 
plied ;  "  I  put  you  on  him,  and  walk." 


478  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  said  ;  "  if  your  mule  is  very  good,  let 
me  ride  it,  and  I  will  hire  one  for  you." 

But  he  would  not  hear  of  this.  He  could  walk  as 
fast,  he  said,  as  I  would  ride.  "  I  walk  home  in  two 
hour,  Miss  Warren ;  and  Signorita  and  Mas'r  Philip 
and  the  Colonel  all  be  so  glad  you  come.  Talk  much 
about  you." 

"  Do  you  live  in  their  house,"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  live  with  Colonel  all  the  time ;  no  been 
here  before  since  we  come." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  it  must  have  been  Providence 
that  sent  you  now,  I  think." 

"  No,  Signorita ;  mistress  send  me  for  some  very 
nice  chicken  to  lay  egg.  I  bought  many,  and  they  go 
in  wagon,  by-and-by." 

I  took  my  breakfast  while  he  was  gone  to  get  his 
and  arrange  his  affairs  ;  and  at  last  he  came,  leading  to 
the  door  a  sturdy,  shining  brown  mule,  with  a  very 
shabby  side-saddle,  that  might  have  been  the  property 
of  Mrs.  Noah  before  they  took  to  the  ark ;  it  was  so 
very  aged,  that  I  feared  to  trust  myself  upon  it  with- 
out trying  the  girths  and  stirrups  ;  but  Antonio  looked 
so  hurt  at  my  pulling  and  examining  them,  that  I  de- 
sisted, and  stepping  on  a  large  stone  near  the  door,  I 
took  my  seat  in  it.  Mr.  Johnson,  the  foreman,  had 
come  to  receive  my  luggage,  and  when  all  was  adjusted, 
I  pulled  the  bridle-rein  and  followed  Antonio,  a  little 
nervously  at  first,  but  with  a  lively  sense,  all  the  time, 
of  the  spectacle  I  should  be  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world  I  had  ever  seen. 

It  was  our  road,  as  I  suspected,  that  lay  up  the 
breast  of  the  high  mountain — not  the  highest  one— and 
through  what  seemed  to  me  a  slight  depression  between 
it  and  the  next  peak,  south.  Bat  when  we  reached 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  479 

the  top  of  our  ascent,  I  found  there  were  still  great 
elevations  on  either  hand,  and  we  looked  back  into  the 
narrow  basin  we  had  left,  and  oif  over  wild,  rugged 
groups  of  mountains,  with  slender  valleys,  and  dark, 
wooded  gulfs  between  them — an  endless  confusion  to 
my  eyes.  The  rarefied  air  swept  through  the  elevated 
passes,  and  moaned  softly  among  the  sorrowing  ever- 
greens that  welcomed  it,  as  if  it  grieved  for  the  living 
sea  and  the  distant  populous  worlds  it  had  left  below. 
How  profound  the  solitude  of  that  cloud-piercing 
world  !  How  awful  the  power  that  had  sent  forth 
such  proclamation  of  itself ! 

When  we  reached  the  next  valley,  Antonio  told 
me  we  were  a  little  more  than  half  way.  Our  path 
often  left  the  rude  wagon-road,  making  "  cut-offs  "  up 
or  down  the  mountains. 

It  was  Mrs.  Anderson's  favorite  ride,  he  said,  to  the 
top  of  the  next  hill,  and  when  we  got  there,  we  could 
see  the  smoke  from  Valverde. 

"  I  go  first,  and  tell  her  you  come,"  he  suggested. 

"  No,  no,  Antonio  ;  I  can't  spare  you." 

"  Mula  safe,"  he  said  ;  "  he  know  the  way  home  ; 
bring  you  right  there." 

"  But  I  don't  wish  them  to  know  till  I  get  there," 
said  I.  "  I  want  to  walk  into  her  house  without  a 
word." 

He  laughed,  as  understanding  something  of  my 
feelings,  and  we  held  our  way  to  the  hacienda. 

From  the  hight  overlooking  it,  I  could,  as  Antonio 
had  said,  discern  something  more  like  a  palpable  wreath 
of  light  than  smoke,  changing  and  shifting  slowly  among 
the  piles  of  evergreen  foliage.  Two  giant  birds  of 
prey  floated  lazily,  in  majestic  circles,  in  the  thin  air 
above  us ;  but  except  them  and  ourselves,  no  living 


4:80  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

thing  was  in  sight.  The  mountains  were  bald  in 
patches,  but  generally  thinly  covered  with  the  ever- 
greens I  have  mentioned,  sparsely  intermixed  with  the 
more  generous  foliage  of  larger-leaved  trees. 

Down,  down,  down  we  went — the  verdure  increas- 
ing with  our  descent,  or,  rather,  the  evidences  that 
there  had  been  verdure,  and  would  be  again,  when  the 
new  rains  of  the  season  had  brought  it  forward. 

The  wonder  I  continually  entertained,  was — how 
did  anybody  ever  find  this  spot,  or  dream  that  it  con- 
tained treasure  ?  Indeed  it  was  "  a  wild  and  wondrous 
region,"  as  Col.  Anderson  had  told  Eleanore. 

At  last  we  emerged  upon  a  hand's-breadth  of  level 
ground — a  miniature  valley,  which  a  large  house 
would  almost  have  filled — and  then  our  path  lay 
across  a  little  elevation  beyond,  from  which  we  saw 
the  houses,  through  the  scattering  tree-tops,  and  heard 
noises ;  and  then  Antonio's  impatient  feet  literally 
danced  to  be  gone  before  me  with  the  good  news.  But 
I  could  not  let  him. 

"  You  must  let  me  go  first,  now,"  said  I — "  there's 
a  good  soul — and  you  shall  have  the  first  word  some 
other  time." 

We  entered  upon  the  short  bit  of  worn  road,  that 
might  be  called  the  street  of  the  hacienda,  and  a  few 
rods  in  advance  1  saw  a  house,  with  neatly-curtained 
windows,  standing  alone,  and  a  little  back  from  the 
dust-line,  with  a  rustic  piazza,  supported  by  small 
knotty  trunks  and  thatched  with  evergreen  boughs, 
which  I  immediately  guessed  to  be  Eleanore's  home ; 
and  glancing  at  Antonio,  I  saw  by  the  direction  of  his 
gleaming  eye  that  I  was  right.  Mula  knew  it  also, 
and  set  his  ears  forward,  and  shambled  into  three  or  v 
four  steps  of  trotting  to  bring  me  to  its  front. 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  481 

How  clean-swept  was  every  inch  of  the  dry  ground 
on  which  I  alighted  !  The  door  stood  open,  and  I  was 
hoping  to  steal  in  before  anybody  should  see  me ;  but 
when  I  had  scarcely  two  steps  left  between  me  and  the 
threshold,  there  appeared  the  happy  face  and  well- 
remembered  form  of  the  master-spirit  of  this  little 
world,  with  wide-extended  arms,  that  took  me  in  and 
folded  themselves  about  me  with  a  heartiness  which 
filled  my  eyes  instantly. 

"  Where  is  she  ?"  I  whispered,  when  he  had  kissed 
my  cheek. 

"  In  a  back  room,"  he  answered,  in  the  same  tone, 
"  and  doesn't  know  that  you  are  here.  Come  softly, 
and  we'll  surprise  her." 

I  followed  without  speaking.  She  had  heard  his 
footstep,  but  not  mine,  and  was  occupied  for  the  mo- 
ment with  something  that  kept  her  face  turned 
from  us. 

"  Come  in,  dear  Leo.  I  was  just  thinking  of  some- 
thing I  have  to  say  to  you — something  very  important." 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  put  it  oif,  Nelly. 
I  can't  possibly  hear  it  now." 

"  But  you  must  and  shall,  sir." 

"  I  cannot,  my  queen.  I  have  something  to  say  to 
you,  instead." 

"  That  will  do  quite  as  well,"  she  replied  ;  and  I 
could  hear  the  old  laugh  in  her  words.  "  I'd  rather 
hear  you  than  myself.  It  was  only  a  bit  of  stratagem 
to  keep  you  a  few  minutes." 

Col.  Anderson  had  pressed  me  from  the  doorway, 
so  that,  after  the  first  glance  at  her,  I  was  out  of  sight. 
She  now  turned  toward  him,  and  seeing  his  face,  asked, 
in  quick,  surprised  tones  :  "  What  is  it,  Leo  ?  There's 
a  pleasant  story  in  your  eyes  " — approaching  rapidly 
21 


482  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

with  the  words.  "  Tell  me  what  it  is."  And  she  drew 
his  arm  coaxingly  about  her. 

"  Somebody  has  come." 

"  Ah !  your  Mr.  Hedding,  is  it  ?  or  Huntley  ?  or 
who  else  ?" — seeing  him  shake  his  head. 

"  Somebody  better  than  either.  Here  she  is  " — 
stepping  suddenly  aside  and  disclosing  me. 

We  went  spontaneously  into  each  other's  arms. 

"  I  felt  you  were  near  us  this  morning,"  said  she ; 
"  and  I  wanted  to  tell  Leo  so,  but  I  was  afraid  of  that 
deep  smile  in  his  eyes.  He  thinks  I  don't  see  it,  be- 
cause he  doesn't  let  it  come  out  of  them,  but  I  do. 
How  good  and  handsome  you  look,  dear  Anna." 

"  Yes,"  said  Col.  A.,  "you  both  are  handsomer  at 
this  moment  than  usual ;  so  much  so,  that  I  am  not 
willing  to  act  the  part  of  mere  spectator  any  longer ;" 
and  with  a  strong  arm  about  each  of  us,  he  drew  us 
away  to  a  lounge — yes,  a  real  Yankee  lounge,  got  up 
by  Eleanore's  own  hands — that  stood  across  the  room, 
and  there  seated  himself  between  us. 


CHAPTER    LYII. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  give  you  the  sequel  of  that 
meeting,  nor  how  question  and  answer  followed  so  fast 
on  one  another,  that  Col.  Anderson  at  last  stopped  his 
ears,  in  an  affected  agony  of  confusion,  and  kissing 
Eleanore,  said,  impudently,  he  should  have  to  go,  as  a 
measure  of  self-defense.  It  was  necessary  he  should 
preserve  his  intellects. 

"  Which  will  require  little  effort,  sir,  I  should  say, 
if  we  are  to  judge  by  the  magnitude  of  the  thing  to  be 
saved,"  was  her  answering  thrust. 

"  There  it  is,  you  see,  Miss  Warren,"  he  said,  appeal- 
ing to  me.  "  So  merciless  she  is.  I  am  always  sure  to 
get  a  heavier  shot  than  I  send,  when  I  get  this  battery 
opened  upon  me.  But  I  am  so  spicily  treated  after 
the  wounding,  that  I  love  the  warfare." 

"  Go  away,  sir,"  she  said,  looking  after  him  with 
such  radiant  large  eyes,  "  and  come  again  when  you 
can  behave  better.  O  Anna,  I  am  so  glad  you  have 
come,  and  yet  I  was  happier  before  than  anybody  could 
deserve  to  be.  You  see  what  he  is  now,  and  he  is 
always  so  or  better  and  nobler  as  he  is  graver.  But  I 
shall  not  tell  you  about  him.  You  shall  see  for  your- 
self. What  is  your  first  want,  dear  ?" 

"  Phil,"  I  answered. 

"  He  is  gone  a  little  way  up  the  mountain,  with  one 
of  the  men,  who  hurt  his  hand,  and  is  disabled.  You'll 


4:34:  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

have  to  wait  for  him ;  and  I  suppose  the  next  thing 
will  be  water  and  towels,  or  shall  it  be  lunch  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  water  first,  by  all  means,"  I  replied,  and 
while  the  process  it  served  was  going  on,  our  tongues 
were  going  too — all  the  thousand  questions,  and  sort  of 
outside  experiences  we  had  had,  which  friends  such  as 
we  were,  take  off  first  and  lay  aside,  as  they  do  their 
dusty  garments,  thereby  opening  the  way  to  the  inmost 
heart-talk  that  would  follow.  I  was  eating  a  biscuit 
and  some  sweetmeat  which  Eleanore  had  brought  in, 
when  Antonio  entered,  and  after  many  pleasant,  cheer- 
ing words,  for  the  good  gift  he  had  brought  her,  to  my 
surprise  asked  some  direction  about  the  dinner. 

"  Is  Antonio  a  house-servant,  then  ?"  I  asked,  after 
he  had  gone. 

"  He  is  my  cook  and  butler,"  she  responded,  laugh- 
ing, "  and  we  find  him  invaluable,  I  assure  you.  He  is 
better  than  anything  we  could  get  of  the  natives — to 
say  nothing  of  his  being  so  attached  to  us,  so  cleanly  and 
agreeable,  where  they  would  be  intolerable.  He  does 
all  the  work  with  a  boy  to  wait  on  him,  and  the  house, 
when  he  is  home,  is  perfect  in  neatness." 

"  How  very  fortunate,"  said  I,  "  and  the  creature  is 
so  good  and  faithful." 

"  Yes,"  said  Eleanore,  her  face  shaded  with  a  seri- 
ous look  of  the  past.  "  He  seems  to  feel  that  there  is 
but  one  pleasure  in  life  for  him,  and  that  is  in  serving 
us.  He  will  not  take  his  wages  from  Leo,  except 
enough  to  supply  his  wants,  and  make  a  few  presents. 
He  is  very  generous  in  that  way  to  those  he  likes ;  but 
they  are  few  out  of  our  house.  Most  of  the  money  he 
spends  goes  for  gifts  to  Phil,  and  the  rest  we  are  laying 
up  for  him." 

"  Your  house  is  small,  Eleanore,"  said  I.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?" 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  485 

"  You  shall  have  my  room,  dear  Anna,  if  you  will 
consent  to  share  it  with  Phil,  and  sometimes  with  me." 

I  was  surprised  at  these  words ;  but  either  she  did 
not  observe  that  I  was,  or  did  not  see  fit  to  heed  it.  I 
was  moved  almost  to  speech ;  but  there  was  no  pause 
in  the  flow  of  her  varied  talk,  to  give  me  an  opportu- 
nity for  so  unwelcome  and  delicate  an  utterance  as 
remonstrance  would  have  been  then,  and  therefore  the 
subject  passed  into  silence,  not,  however,  without  a_ 
firm  resolve  on  my  part,  to  do  my  duty  in  regard  to  it 
some  day. 

In  due  time  the  little  matters  of  settlement  were  dis- 
posed of.  I  was  shown  the  resources  of  the  house,  and 
assigned  my  place  in  the  largest  sleeping-chamber, 
where  she  still  kept  her  own  bed,  and  as  we  had  never 
been  a  hindrance  to  each  other  in  these  ways,  so  we 
seemed  now  to  take  up  our  old  relations  of  amity  and 
order  at  once. 

There  was  a  small  room,  or  rather  closet,  which  she 
had  had  made  off  and  lighted,  between  this  and  the 
next  one,  which  was  occupied  by  Col.  Anderson,  and 
this  was  his  dressing-room.  I  was  shown  with  some 
pride  all  the  order  and  comfort  and  neatness  which  she 
had  been  able  to  create  here,  with  rather  slender  re- 
sources in  furniture,  which  the  cost  and  risk  of  trans- 
portation forbade  their  bringing  in  any  considerable 
quantity ;  and  I  remember  as  we  were  returning  to  the 
parlor,  her  saying  some  confused  words,  which  she 
blushed  in  uttering.  "  Leo  and  I, have  found  that,  dear 
Anna,  which  robs  external  life  equally  of  its  plainness 
and  splendor.  "We  both  forget  the  isolation  and  rude- 
ness here,  as  we  should  their  opposites,  were  we  in  the 
midst  of  royal  luxury.  He  is  to  me,  and  I  am  to  him. 
That  suffices  us.  I  am  absolutely  and  wholly  happy 


486  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

except  in  the  moments  when  I  remember  that  this 
resplendent  state  on  which  I  have  entered,  hangs  upon 
a  single  life,  and  that  a  mortal's.  Do  not  think  me 
weak,  dear  friend.  I  have  the  sublimest  sense  of 
power  in  this  experience.  It  is  a  revelation  of  myself 
to  myself." 

So  I  was  established  in  this  remote  starry  household, 
and  there  I  spent  four  months,  almost  the  entire  rainy 
season,  in  an  atmosphere  of  peace,  love,  refinement, 
and  harmony,  such  as  it  was  never  my  lot  to  breathe 
elsewhere.  Intellect,  taste,  culture,  wit,  and  sentiment, 
lighted  and  warmed  our  daily  life. 

Col.  Anderson  was  a  man  endowed  with  a  mind  at 
once  so  comprehensive  and  exact,  and  with  so  much 
executive  force,  that  in  his  business  matters  there  was 
rarely  any  jarring  or  hindrance.  He  had  great  fore- 
cast, and  exercised  a  keen  attention — therefore  he  had 
rarely  an  unsupplied  want.  His  chief  difficulty  lay  in 
the  inferiority  of  the  labor  he  was  obliged  to  employ ; 
but  as  there  was  no  escape  from  this,  he  went  on  the 
first  few  months,  diligently  sifting  his  laborers,  sending 
away  the  bad  and  encouraging  the  good,  until  at  last 
he  had  about  him,  he  said,  as  efficient  a  set  of  men  as 
he  had  ever  employed.  But  in  no  case  were  his  out- 
door cares  permitted  to  cloud  the  hours  of  leisure  in 
the  house.  He  often  communicated  to  his  wife  the 
nature  of  the  difficulties  he  met  with ;  but  when  he 
came  in  from  the  works  they  were  laid  aside  peremp- 
torily, and  a  ride  or  a  walk,  or  reading,  or  conversation, 
closed  the  days  upon  us,  all  grouped  together  some- 
times, and  at  others,  knowing  their  intense  happiness  in 
each  other,  I  stole  away  by  myself  with  Phil,  and  left 
them  sitting  like  two  unwedded  lovers,  and  treasuring 
like  them  the  charm  of  the  hours,  till  they  should  sepa- 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  487 

rate  for  the  night.  Long  before  my  visit  was  over,  I 
gave  my  hearty  assent  to  Eleanore's  family  arrange- 
ments, seeing  how  harmoniously  they  moved  on  with 
them,  and  with  what  entire  respect  as  well  as  tender- 
ness each  was  considered  in  them.  I  told  her  so 
one  day. 

"  Ah,  dear  Anna,"  she  said,  "  I  felt  you  would  see  it 
so  after  a  while.  Leonard,  I  think,  had  your  feeling  and 
thought  about  it  at  first ;  but  now  he  tells  me  he  is  so 
grateful  for  my  having  entreated  him  to  give  me  my 
way  for  six  months.  He  will  never  think  of  any  other, 
he  says ;  and  I  am  sure  the  whole  world  would  not 
induce  me  to  risk  one  spark  of  his  precious  love,  by  a 
greater  familiarity." 

"  You  are  right,"  I  said,  "  dear  Eleanore,  I  am 
persuaded ;  "  but  I  do  not  feel  certain  that  the  same 
views  and  practices  would  serve  all  sorts  of  people." 

"  Possibly  not,  Anna,  lower  persons  than  we  are. 
One  blushes  and  grieves  to  think  of  the  army  of  people 
in  whom  sense  is  the  only  or  chief  bond  of  union  ;  but 
there  are  also  very  many,  dear,  who  would  be  as  happy 
as  we  are,  if  they  would  but  search  themselves  out,  and 
estimate  truly  their  sources  of  enjoyment.  The  laws 
which  govern  our  gratifications  are  as  invariable  as  any 
others  in  nature ;  and  if  we  will  not  study  and  heed 
them,  how  can  we  expect  to  be  blessed  with  the  re- 
wards of  obedience.  Leo  and  I  are,  thank  God,  so 
mated  in  our  mental  being,  that  we  have  infinite  joys 
derivable  from  it  alone.  When  some  thought  or  sub- 
ject of  our  own  does  not  come  to  us,  we  go  with  equal 
pleasure  to  serious  or  entertaining  books — to  Ruskin 
or  Dickens  or  Carlyle — though  I  confess  the  last  is  less 
a  favorite  with  me  than  with  him.  But  in  these,  and 
such  as  these — in  the  great  poets,  and  in  the  thinkers 


488  THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

and  teachers  of  our  own  country,  whom  I  am  proud  to 
bring  to  his  acquaintance,  we  find  such  exhaustless 
themes  for  our  tongues,  that  we  often  bid  each  other 
good-night  as  reluctantly  as  if  we  were  not  inmates  of 
the  same  house.  Then  we  have  the  same  zest  in  meet- 
ing again,  that  two  such  persons,  loving  each  other  as 
we  do,  would  have  under  those  circumstances. 

"  Did  I  tell  you  that  he  surprised  me  one  day,  a 
short  time  before  you  came,  by  walking  into  the  house 
with  that  set  of  Ruskin  in  his  arms.  Hearing  me  re- 
fer to  him  frequently  in  our  talks  on  art,  mental 
growth,  and  so  on,  he  had  written  to  Mr.  Hedding  to 
ransack  the  city  for  c  The  Stones  of  Venice.'  They 
were  not  to  be  had  in  the  book-stores,  and  the  good 
old  gentleman,  by  great  diligence,  found  this  set  on  a 
gentleman^  library-shelves,  and  made  out  such  a  pite- 
ous case  about  our  seclusion  and  suffering  tastes,  and 
so  on,  that  he  sold  them  to  him.  He  said  he  supposed 
he  could  wait  for  others  from  London  better  than  we 
could :  and  we  were  very  thankful  for  them,  I  assure 
yon.  They  are  not  a  quarter  read  yet,  because  Leonard 
has  seen  a  great  deal  that  he  describes  ;  and  this,  and 
all  our  discussion,  makes  the  reading  slow. 

"  We  agree,  dear  Anna,  in  sentiment,  in  our  hopes 
for  man,  and  in  all  the  main  estimates  of  what  life  is 
to  do  for  us.  The  only  differences  we  have,  are  as  to 
means  and  practicabilities,  and  thus  we  have  endless 
agreement  and  disagreement  without  discord. 


CHAPTER   LYIII. 

The  lack  of  music  was  the  one  substantial  privation 
of  this  position,  which  we  all  lamented  at  times,  but 
saw  no  remedy  for.  It  would  have  been  madness  to 
attempt  bringing  a  piano  over  the  mountains  I  had 
crossed  ;  so  we  could  only  lament,  and  listen  occa- 
sionally to  Col.  Anderson's  flute,  which  he  played  very 
sweetly,  but  without  variety  or  brilliancy.  He  was 
only  an  amateur,  and  had  too  great  a  respect  for  Elea- 
nore's  taste,  to  gratify  us  often  by  his  modest  per- 
formances. 

One  day,  after  luncheon,  when  there  had  been  a 
deal  of  sharp-shooting  between  us  all  round,  and  Elea- 
nore,  as  usual,  had  borne  off  the  banner,  just  escaping 
him  at  the  door,  with  a  very  saucy  speech  on  her  lips, 
he  took  me  aside,  and  told  me  confidentially  that  he 
had  a  little  surprise  in  hand  for  her,  which  he  wished 
me  to  help  him  prepare. 

Of  course  I  was  ready.     What  was  it  ? 

"  A  piano." 

A  piano  !     It  almost  took  my  breath  to  think  of  it. 

"  You  see,  dear  Miss  Warren,"  he  said,  "  I  couldn't 
endure  to  keep  her  here  a  year,  or  perhaps  two,  with- 
out one.  Music  is  so  much  to  her  life.  And,  beside," 
he  added,  solemnly,  Eleanore  has  such  a  religious  con- 
viction of  what  is  due  to  our  child,  that  I  must  be  a 
very  infidel  to  neglect  any  joy  or  satisfaction  for  her 
21* 


490  THE   IDE4L   ATTAINED. 

that  might  be  a  blessing  to  it.  I  am,  after  much  con- 
versation and  thought — the  subject  was  so  new  and 
startling  to  me — convinced  that  hers  is  the  true  philo- 
sophy in  regard  to  the  offices  and  powers  of  your  sex ; 
and  with  God's  help,  who  has  given  me  so  noble  a 
wife,  no  child  of  ours  shall  suffer  blight  or  warping  of 
its  nature  through  lack  of  aught  that  may  make  the 
mother  strong,  happy,  and  harmonious.  I  have  said 
so  much,  that  you  might  understand  that  this  apparent 
rashness  is  not  mere  weak  indulgence  of  myself  or  her." 

"  I  could  scarcely  judge  either  of  you  in  that  way," 
I  replied ;  "  but  in  your  view  of  it,  I  see  a  higher 
faithfulness  than  simply  that  of  affection  for  her,  which, 
alone,  I  should  have  been  little  likely  to  question." 

"  Your  heart  is  true  and  always  to  be  trusted,"  he 
said,  laying  his  hand  upon  my  shoulder  ;  and  now  that 
you  understand  all,  I  know  you  will  zealously  second 
my  plans,  and  appreciate  the  importance  of  keeping 
from  her  the  possible  disappointment  that  may  await 
me.  If  we  fail,  I  must  leave  it  to  your  ingenuity  to 
devise  some  plan  for  sealing  Phil's  lips.  She  must  not 
Know  it  at  present.  Miss  Warren,  remember  that." 

"  How  do  you  expect  it  ?"  I  inquired ;  "  and  who  is 
to  put  it  in  order,  if  it  comes  safely  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  have  taken  care  of  all  that.  Hedding  and 
Huntley  are  both  coming,  to  see  the  works  and  spend 
a  few  days.  I  haven't  told  her  of  them,  either,  and  I 
wish  to  take  her  a  ride  and  keep  her  out  till  the  wagon 
comes,  and  the  thing  is  proved.  So  if  I  may  depend 
upon  you  to  see  to  it,  and  receive  them  in  our  stead, 
I  shall  feel  very  grateful.  Huntley  is  all  sorts  of  a  ge- 
nius— very  musical  himself,  and  could  make  a  piano, 
perhaps,  for  lack  of  a  better  hand  at  it.  He  pur- 
chased it  for  me,  and  understands  my  wishes  perfectly. 
May  I  now  leave  the  whole  affair  to  you  ?" 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  491 

"  I  will  do  my  very  wisest  and  best,"  I  replied ; 
and  hearing  the  sound  of  her  coming  feet,  I  immedi- 
ately spoke  on  another  topic,  and  the  subject  was  dis- 
missed. 

But  you  may  be  assured  that  I  did  not,  with  the 
cessation  of  speech,  cease  to  think  upon  and  admire  the 
nobleness,  delicacy,  and  true  manly  tenderness,  which 
were  thus  endeavoring  religiously  to  fulfill  the  measure 
of  duty  and  blessing  to  the  unborn.  I  knew  that  he 
had  happiness,  great  happiness,  in  pleasing  the  beloved 
of  his  soul ;  but  I  saw,  by  the  radiance  of  his  beaming 
eye,  and  the  glow  of  his  countenance  while  he  spoke, 
that  there  was  here  a  holy,  elevating,  and  sacred  pur- 
pose, higher  even  than  that,  which  warmed  this  great, 
true  soul.  Eleanore  had  spoken  to  me,  long  ago,  in 
one  of  her  exalted,  prophetic  moods,  of  the  children 
that  would  one  day  be  born,  when  it  should  be  under- 
stood how  richly  ennobling  and  high  influences  could 
flow  to  them  through  the  daily  life  and  experiences — 
the  susceptibilities  and  capacities  of  the  mother.  I  re- 
membered this,  and  her  saying,  once,  that  man  could 
exercise  his  most  potent  and  beautiful  influence  over 
the  character  and  destiny  of  his  children  only  through 
pure  and  divine  ministrations  to  woman  in  this  great- 
est office  of  humanity ;  and  I  rejoiced  with  joy  un- 
speakable in  the  assurance  thus  afforded  me,  that  ap- 
preciation, and  noble,  delicate,  and  religious  aid  toward 
the  actualizing  of  these  holy  hopes,  were  to  be  hers. 
The  announcement  cheered  and  exhilarated  rne  more 
than  I  can  tell,  and  gave  me  an  almost  feeling  of 
importance  in  the  magnitude  of  the  secret  intrusted 
to  me. 

When  dinner  was  over,  and  Jose,  Antonio's  lieu- 
tenant, brought  the  mules  to  the  door,  I  hurried  them 
away  as  fast  as  possible,  for  the  Colonel  had  told  me 


4:92  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

that,  the  roads  being  much  improved  of  late,  the  wa- 
gon, which  was  to  us  like  a  train  of  rail-cars  or  a 
steam-packet,  might  be  there  earlier  than  it  had  yet. 
come,  and,  in  any  case,  the  gentlemen  might  be  ex- 
pected soon. 

"  You  must  make  my  case  good  to  them,"  he  said, 
"for  deserting  in  this  unusual  manner,  but  there  is 
nothing  else  I  can  do  to  keep  her  away  till  the  ex- 
periment is  tried,  and  I  will  make  all  amends  when  I 
get  back." 

As  soon  as  they  turned  from  the  door,  I  took  Phil, 
who  stood  kissing  his  hand  to  them,  to  my  heart  and 
confidence. 

"  A  piano !"  he  exclaimed,  with  dancing  eyes ; 
"  a  piano,  Miss  Warren  !  Oh,  isn't  that  nice  !  I  be- 
lieve mamma  will  teach  me  to  play  on  it  when  I  am 
big  enough — don't  you  1" 

"  Yes,  darling." 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  asked,  thoughtfully,  and  seem- 
ing to  reach  far  back  into  the  shadowy  past  for  it — 
"  do  you  know  that  Harry  used  to  play,  away  off  in 
the  other  land  ?" 

"No,  Phil,  I  didn't  know  it." 

"  Yes,  he  did,  Miss  Warren  ;  and  mamma  used  to 
show  him  how." 

"  But  you  must  not  talk  to  mamma  about  that,  dear 
Phil.  It  will  grieve  her." 

"  No,  I  won't ;  but  I  'member  it.  I  am  so  glad  we 
shall  have  one  here ;  I  like  to  have  mamma  play  for 
me  to  dance." 

Antonio  was  full  of  business,  for  he  understood 
affairs  also,  and  was  bustling  about  outside  prepara- 
tions for  the  extra  dinner,  and  we  were  both  watching 
for  any  sign  of  approach  down  the  mountain. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  493 

At  last  the  shouts  of  the  muleteers  were  heard,  and 
shortly  after,  the  great  wagon,  with  its  immense  bur- 
den, and  long  train  of  little  patient  slaves,  rumbled 
into  the  street,  and  stopped  before  the  large  store- 
house a  few  rods  below.  There  were  no  strangers  there 
though ;  but  Antonio  soon  came  in  with  the  cheering 
news  that  they  were  coming.  They  were  to  start  from' 

at  two  o'clock,  and  as  it  was  now  a  little  past 

four,  we  might  expect  them  immediately.  At  once 
there  was  a  little  bustle  of  preparation  running  through 
the  house. 

I  shifted  a  table  and  some  chairs  in  the  parlor,  to 
make  room  for  the  welcome  arrival;  strong  in  faith 
that  all  would  be  right  with  it,  and  that  next  day,  if 
not  earlier,  we  should  hear  some  of  the  sweet  sounds 
which  Eleanore  could  make  it  discourse,  to  delight  us. 
In  my  care,  I  went  out  myself  to  see  that  it  was  pro- 
perly handled  in  the  unloading  and  bringing  in.  It 
was  certainly  well  packed,  being  apparently  in  the 
center  of  a  gigantic  bale  of  some  soft  material,  and  all 
strongly  sewed  in  sail-cloth.  When  all  this  was  re- 
moved, and  the  exhumation  fully  effected,  I  saw  a 
smallish,  old-fashioned  instrument,  which  I  greatly 
feared  must  disappoint  our  hopes.  It  was  of  antique 
make,  and  English,  as  I  judged,  from  the  unfamiliar 
name,  Whitehouse,  which  alone  appeared  upon  it. 

We  had  but  just  got  it  safely  in  doors,  when  the 
two  gentlemen  came,  and  after  being  introduced  to 
Mr.  Huntley,  I  proceeded  with  the  explanation  of  their 
host  and  hostess'  absence.  They  accepted  it  with  entire 
good  nature,  entering  heartily  into  the  spirit  of  the 
affair,  at  once,  and  Mr.  Huntley,  after  returning  from 
his  room,  put  his  hand  readily  to  the  setting  up  and 
tuning,  saying,  good  humoredly,  he  had  done  a  little  of 


404:  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

almost  everything  since  he  had  been  in  Chili,  and  it 
should  go  hard  with  him,  but  he  would  make  this  un- 
dertaking of  the  Colonel's  successful.  He  lost  not  a 
moment  till  dinner  was  laid,  and  then,  taking  only  the 
Yankee  measure  of  time  "for  that  important  event, 
came  back  and  resumed  his  labors — examined  this  and 
that,  groaned  here,  whistled  despairingly  there,  and  by- 
and-by  muttered  a  few  syllables  of  encouragement  to 
himself — keeping  very  busy  all  the  while — tried  the 
keys — tuned  the  strings,  tried  them  again,  tuned  a 
little  more — ran  over  them,  caught  his  breath  painfully 
when  some  unexpected  discord  rang  out,  stopped,  set  it 
right,  and  tried  them  again  and  again,  growing  flushed 
and  heated  all  the  while  with  the  exertion,  and  the 
consciousness  of  the  shortening  time — called  for  lights, 
and  went  on  still  more  excitedly,  but  with  a  calm  and 
steady  hand,  and  at  length  hurried  a  chair  up  to  the 
instrument,  sat  down  and  played,  from  memory,  one  of 
the  Strauss  waltzes. 

"  There,"  said  he,  exultingly,  "  it's  all  right  but  that 
A,  sounding  the  rebellious  key,  and  I  fear  we  may  have 
to  get  a  new  string  for  that.  I  am  afraid  it  will  jar 
Mrs.  Anderson's  fine  ear.  I'll  try  it  once  again,  though. 
Yes,  that  improves  it  a  little  more — yes  that  is  better, 
very  good  in  fact.  Now,  Mr.  Hedding" — this  gentleman 
had  been  sitting,  talking  with  me  and  Phil,  telling  us 
how  he  had  brought  stores  of  rare  seeds  and  flower-roots 
for  Mrs.  Anderson — "now,  Hedding,  I  call  that  a 
triumph,  by  Jove  !  When  Mrs.  Anderson  comes  home, 
I  think  she'll  be  a  little  surprised.  I  believe  I'll  con- 
ceal myself,  just  to  see  the  effect." 

"  You'll  have  but  little  time,  sir,"  I  said,  "  for  strata- 
gem ;  for  I  think  I  hear  their  voices  in  the  still  air  from 
that  hill-side ;  and  if  so,  they  will  be  here  in  a  few 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  495 

minutes."  And  so  they  were,  and  you  must  imagine 
Eleanore's  incredulous  look,  and  how  her  large  eyes 
opened  upon  us  wider  and  wider,  and  how,  having 
shaken  hands  mechanically  with  her  guests,  she  allowed 
her  exulting  husband  to  seat  her  at  the  instrument, 
and  how,  after  a  few  touches  of  it,  she  seemed  to 
become  convinced  that  it  was  a  veritable  piano,  and 
proceeded  to  make  it  tell  the  story  itself  by  such  an 
outpouring  of  sweet  sounds  as  had  never  before  startled 
that  little  valley,  and  how  the  peons  and  their  dark 
wives  and  children  gathered  around,  and  pressed  up  to 
hear,  and  how,  after  this,  she  rose,  and  with  tearful 
eyes,  clasped  and  kissed  the  dear  hand  that  had  con- 
ferred this  great  pleasure  on  her,  and  then  gave  a  cor- 
dial and  meaning  welcome  to  both  the  gentlemen,  and 
how  the  evening  passed  in  alternate  music  and  talk, 
till  a  late  hour,  when  we  all  retired — even  Phil  having 
been  allowed  to  sleep  there,  with  his  head  pillowed  on 
my  lap,  when  he  could  no  longer  keep  waking ;  and 
how,  when  he  was  laid  in  his  little  bed,  Eleanore  came 
and  bade  me  good  night,  with  such  an  earnest  and  reli- 
gious thankfulness  in  her  eyes,  that  I  said,  without  her 
speaking,  "  Yes,  dear  friend,  you  are  indeed  richly 
blest." 


CHAPTEK  LIX. 

Our  guests  remained  a  week  with  us,  prolonging 
their  visit  from  day  to  day,  in  pure  surrender  to  the 
beautiful  life  we  enjoyed.  There  were  rides  and  walks 
and  visits  to  the  works,  in  which  both  were  largely 
interested ;  there  were  games  at  chess  between  the  three 
younger  ones,  Mr.  Hedding  generally  managing  to 
keep  me  under  a  perpetual  challenge  to  backgammon ; 
there  were  discussions — political,  theological,  and  sci- 
entific; there  were  conversations  upon  art,  esthetics, 
life,  death,  matter,  spirit.  Mr.  Huntley,  when  tried, 
proved  an  accomplished  talker.  He  was  a  Cambridge 
man,  and  the  difference  in  conversational  resource  be- 
tween him  and  our  host  was  well  characterized  by  the 
latter  one  evening,  when,  smarting  under  a  tempo- 
rary defeat,  he  said :  "  Ah,  Huntley,  you  and  I  are 
too  unequally  matched  in  this  ring.  The  years 
that  went  over  me  in  my  wanderings  on  the  deserts 
and  in  the  jungles  of  the  east,  were  spent  by  you  in 
the  drawing-rooms  of  London  and  the  salons  of  Paris. 
You  can  level  me  at  one  fell  swoop  with  authorities  of 
which  I  am  ignorant,  or  which  I  know  only  by  report." 

"  And  you,"  replied  his  antagonist,  "  can  throw 
about  me,  before  I  know  what  you  are  doing,  the  giant 
arms  of  some  law,  which  nature,  in  your  love-passages 
with  her,  has  revealed  to  you  and  there  I  am,  bound 
and  prostrate  at  your  feet.  What  are  all  the  musty 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  497 

opinions  of  the  schoolmen — speculations  between  man 
and  man — compared  to  a  decree  which  lives  and  works 
daily  and  hourly  in  the  elements  that  sustain  us  ?" 

Eleanore  looked  proudly  at  her  husband  as  these 
words  fell  upon  her  ear,  and  gratefully  at  him  who 
uttered  them.  "  You  have  spoken  truly,  Mr.  Huntley," 
she  said,  "  and  in  your  self-disparagement  have  proved 
the  highest  claim  to  acknowledgment.  I  admire  that 
soul,  which,  valuing  its  own  possessions,  sees  and  con- 
fesses richer  treasure  in  another.  I  think  it  is  the  se- 
cret of  deep  and  true  happiness  in  our  relations  ;"  and 
her  eyes  turned,  as  she  spoke,  to  Col.  Anderson's,  with 
a  language  that  needed  no  interpretation  from  the 
tongue. 

In  some  manner  and  for  some  reason — whether  of 
greater  fitness  in  years  or  tastes  I  scarcely  know — but 
it  often  happened,  when  the  conversation  was  not  gen- 
eral, that  Mr.  Hedding  and  I  found  ourselves  a  little 
apart,  and  on  subjects  less  cosmic  than  our  young 
friends  were  apt  to  settle  down  upon,  when  once  they 
had  loosed  their  pinions  in  the  field  of  thought.  True, 
we  sometimes  sat  and  listened  when  a  more  than  usu- 
ally eloquent  strain  was  falling  from  some  one  of  those 
living,  hopeful  tongues  ;  but,  however  it  happened,  it  was 
quite  natural  and  easy  for  us  to  treat  ourselves  as  the 
"  old  folks."  The  young  ones  were  all  musical ;  they 
often  sang  and  played  whole  hours  away ;  for  Huntley 
had  inexhaustible  stores  of  pieces  in  his  memory — 
English,  Scotch,  and  Irish  ;  marches,  lilts,  jigs,  waltzes  ; 
opera  pieces,  and  pieces  that  were  older  than  opera. 
He  was  a  cyclopedia,  Eleanore  said,  of  music,  thougli 
not  remarkable  in  execution. 

"  We  want  to  be  inspired  now,  after  all  this  hum- 
drum playing,"  he  would  say  to  her.  "  We  must  have 
you  here  for  that." 


498  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

And  then  often  came  a  grand,  solemn  improvisa- 
tion, or  a  brilliant  and  capricious  one,  or  a  tender  and 
timid  one ;  but  whatever  it  was,  it  was  living.  There 
was  no  mistaking  and  no  resisting  it.  We  could  chat 
or  pursue  our  game  while  Mr.  Huntley  was  doing  his 
best,  or  even  while  she  was  playing  written  music  ;  but 
when  the  instrument  was  made  to  interpret  her,  it  was 
quite  otherwise.  Then  it  was  as  if  her  soul  spoke  to  us 
its  highest  conceptions,  and  we  listened  perforce. 

Their  last  evening  with  us  was  brilliant  in  music, 
conversation,  and  wit.  It  was  prolonged  till  a  late 
hour,  and  as  we  were  parting  for  the  night,  I  said  to 
Mr.  Huntley  :  u  You  will  return  to  the  gayeties  of  the 
city,  after  this  seclusion,  with  a  keen  relish  for  them." 

"  The  city  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Think  of  that,  An- 
derson !  We  are  both  compelling  ourselves  to  go  away 
from  you  all,  and  here  is  Miss  Warren  singing  the 
praises  of  the  city.  I  assure  you  it  has  never  been  so 
dull  as  it  will  be  now,  to  me,  and  I  am  quite  certain  it 
will  be  equally  so  to  my  friend,  will  it  not?" — ad- 
dressing Mr.  Hedding. 

"  You  are  right  in  that,"  he  replied ;  "  for,  really,  I 
have  been  thinking  of  trying  to  get  myself  into  society 
by  asking  Col.  Anderson  to  give  me  a  situation  here. 
Have  you  anything  that  would  suit  me,  Colonel  ?" 

"  Yes,  admirably,"  replied  he,  looking  with  that 
deep  smile,  as  he  spoke,  first  at  Eleanore,  and  then  at 
me.  It  brought  the  color  to  my  face ;  and  she,  too, 
turned  her  glowing  eye  upon  me,  and  pressed  my  hand 
on  her  arm.  What  did  all  this  mean  ? 

But  we  were  just  separating,  and  so  there  was  no 
time  to  ask — only  time  for  speculation  and  dreamy  con- 
jecture after  I  reached  my  room. 

In  the  morning  our  guests  took  their  departure — 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  499 

not  without  repeated  promises  to  visit  Yalverde  again 
before  the  flowers  should  have  faded.  Mr.  Huntley, 
with  his  universal  readiness  and  faultless  taste,  had 
laid  out  and  planted  a  flower-garden  and  numerous 
beds  around  the  house,  and  already  vases  were  in 
requisition  for  the  eschscholtzias  and  lupines  of  the  wild 
lands,  and  we  were  promised,  in  a  couple  of  months,  to 
be  overrun  with  the  annuals  of  the  garden. 

We  had  visited  the  "works"  many  times,  and 
watched  with  a  deep  interest  the  riddling  of  the  great 
mountains.  There  were  three  separate  mines  being 
opened,  with  all  sorts  of  vertical,  lateral,  and  ascending 
and  descending  shafts — a  perfect  labyrinth  it  seemed 
to  Eleanore  and  me.  There  were  the  old  and  new  gal- 
leries, up  and  down,  to  the  right  and  the  left,  winding 
hither  and  thither,  and  all  seeming  endless  in  their 
grim  blackness.  At  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night 
they  swarmed  with  men,  quarriers,  drillers,  carriers; 
and  many  times  each  day  the  dull,  heavy  boom  of 
the  great  blasts  reverberated  through  the  valley  and 
from  side  to  side  of  the  towering  mountains  in  thunder- 
ing echoes. 

The  work  was  driven  with  an  energy  and  quiet- 
ness that  were  admirable  to  witness  ;  no  confusion,  no 
noise,  no  disorder  anywhere ;  one  potent  and  enlight- 
ened will  directing  every  step  and  every  blow  to  its 
exact  purpose — one  clear  eye  computing  every  foot  of 
progress — one  accurate  and  always  calm  mind  compre- 
hending and  controlling,  without  the  slightest  show  of 
authority,  all  that  vast  application  of  labor.  It  inspired 
me  with  a  more  enthusiastic  admiration  of  Col.  Ander- 
son than  I  had  before  entertained,  to  see  how  he  moved 
among  these  men,  of  all  grades  of  capacity  and  all  va- 
rieties of  ambition  and  desire — laborers,  mechanics, 


500  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

machinists,  and  sub-engineers — governing  all  perfectly, 
yet  so  utterly  without  pretense  or  show  of  doing  it, 
that  they  were  never  made  conscious  of  his  relation  to 
them. 

Mr.  Hedding  had  expatiated  warmly  upon  this  fea- 
ture of  his  capacity.  "  He  has  the  power,"  he  said, 
"  to  make  himself  felt  everywhere,  and  yet  a  stranger 
might  spend  a  day  here  and  ask  at  night  who  was  the 
head  man,  if  it  were  not  that  he  is  so  superior  in  every 
way,  that  he  could  not  be  mistaken  for  a  subordinate." 
There  was  the  most  unwavering  confidence  in  his  judg- 
ment, as  well  as.  in  his  executive  ability,  so  that  when 
he  pronounced  favorably  of  any  branch  of  the  under- 
takings he  had  in  hand,  everybody  was  set  at  rest  with 
regard  to  it.  And  how  proud  Eleanore  was  of  all  this. 
With  what  worship  she  looked  on  him,  when  letters 
came  bearing  testimony  to  his  judgment,  his  scientific 
knowledge,  and  worthiness,  in  everything  that  belongs 
to  the  complete  man,  to  be  trusted. 

"  We  leave  all  to  you,  sir,"  was  the  constant  language 
of  those  whom  he  consulted.  "  We  are  convinced  there 
can  be  no  greater  safety  than  this.  Employ  whatever 
force  and  capital  you  think  best  suited  to  develop  our 
interests,  and  advising  us  of  your  wants  as  early  as  you 
can  foresee  them,  rest  assured  that  they  will  be  sup- 
plied." 

From  our  friends  came  pleasant  epistles  to  us 
all,  filled  with  delightful  recollections  of  their  visit, 
and  pitying  themselves  that  they  were  no  longer  of  our 
circle,  "  which,  I  assure  you,"  said  Mr.  Hedding  in  his 
note  to  me,  "it  would  not  be  easy  to  match  in  this 
city."  With  the  second  post  after  their  return,  came 
a  letter  from  Senor  Senano,  very  polite  and  stately, 
containing  a  formal  application  to  me  to  come  to  them 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  501 

in  the  capacity  of  governess.  He  hoped  for  a  speedy 
and  favorable  answer,  from  what  my  friend,  Mrs.  An- 
derson, had  told  them,  before  she  was  herself  taken 
away  by  the  excellent  Colonel. 

"What  shall  I  say,  dear  friends?"  I  asked,  when 
the  letter  had  been  read  in  full  session  at  supper. 

Phil  voted  instanter  no. 

Col.  Anderson  followed  on  the  same  side,  with  rea- 
sons and  arguments  as  plenty  as  blackberries.  Even 
Antonio,  who  was  serving  us,  put  in  his  nay.  But 
Eleanore  was  silent.  "Have  you  no  voice  on  this 
question,  my  queen  ?"  asked  the  husband. 

"  Yes,  Leo,  and  my  voice  is  ay." 

We  were  all  betrayed  into  an  expression  of  surprise. 

"Why,  Nelly,"  began  Col.  Anderson. 

"  Oh  madame,"  exclaimed  Antonio,  catching  his 
breath  and  subsiding  into  instant  silence. 

"Mamma,  mamma,"  cried  Phil,  a don't  let  Miss 
Warren  go  away.  I  want  her  to  stay  here.  I  believe 
she  ought  to  stay  here." 

"  One  at  a  time,  my  darling,"  she  replied  to  the 
man  and  the  child.  You,  good  Antonio,  wish  her  to 
stay,  I  know,  because  we  all  love  her,  and  are  so  happy 
to  have  her  with  us ;  and  that  would  be  right  if  there 
were  nothing  else  to  be  thought  of  but  our  happiness 
for  this  present  time.  But  we  must  think  of  Miss  War- 
ren as  well  as  ourselves,  and  though  we  shall  miss  her 
very  sadly,  from  our  table,  and  our  house,  and  our 
garden,  we  ought  not  to  keep  her  here,  if  it  will  not  be 
best  for  her.  I  think  so,  Antonio,  and  so  I  vote  ay  on 
this  question.  Will  you  come  to  the  parlor  now,"  she 
said,  rising  and  leading  the  way  with  Phil  in  one  hand 
and  myself  in  the  other.  "  Leo,  come  and  sit  down  here, 
and  let  us  consider."  For  my  own  part,  I  remained 


502  THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED. 

silent.  I  was  not  in  the  least  hurt  by  her  decision ;  for 
our  affection  for  each  other  was  above  every  doubt. 
Not  a  shadow  could  possibly  fall  on  that.  But  I  was 
curious  to  hear  a  more  explicit  statement  of  her  thoughts 
than  she  had  given  to  Antonio. 

"Well,  Nelly,"  said  her  husband,  "what  is  it?  I 
know  you  are  thinking  of  something  that  would  be 
worth  hearing.  Will  you  give  it  us  ?" 

"  I  did  not  propose  to  argue  this  question,  dear 
friends,"  she  said,  taking  a  hand  of  each  of  us.  "I 
asked  you,  Leo,  to  sit  down  and  consider.  That  did 
not  mean  to  discuss.  Now  reflect  for  a  little,  and  see 
if  you  do  not  vote  with  me.  We  are  talking,  dear 
Anna,"  she  said,  "  as  if  you  were  absent,  and  I  endeavor 
to  think  and  feel  about  your  going,  as  far  above  the 
level  of  the  present  hour  as  possible.  I  try  to  forget 
how  much  T  shall  long  for  you — how  much  we  shall 
feel  your  loss  from  this  blessed  household,  and  think  of 
your  future  only,  and  I  am  persuaded  that  you  ought 
to  go  to  the  city." 

"  I  am  more  than  half  inclined  to  agree  with  you," 
I.  said,  "  because  I  have  so  often  found  you  right  here- 
tofore. Nevertheless,  I  do  not  care  so  much  for  pecu- 
niary interests  now,  that  I  need  to  sacrifice  so  much  as 
I  should  in  giving  you  all  up  for  the  sake  of  a  salary." 

"  It  is  not  pecuniary  interest  alone  that  I  consider," 
replied  Eleanore.  "But  I  should  like  you  to  enter 
upon  a  social  life  in  the  city,  which  will  never  be  pos- 
sible to  you  here.  You  are  able  to  speak  Spanish  pas- 
sably now,  and  therefore  you  will  not  be  so  isolated  in 
the  Senano  household  as  I  was.  You  will  not  have 
the  same  reason  that  I  had,  in  this  worshipful  master, 
for  shunning  company,  and,  in  short,  I  feel  assured  that 
we  shall  all  be  much  happier  a  year  hence  if  you  go. 


THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED.  503 

Now,  Leo,  you  shall  have  the  privilege  of  withdrawing 
your  former  vote  and  reversing  it  if  you  choose." 

And  so  it  was  settled,  with  the  clear  concurrence  of 
all  but  Phil,  that  I  should  reply  affirmatively  to  Don 
Alexandra's  letter,  wich  I  did,  promising  to  go  to  them 
at  the  end  of  a  month.  What  intense  enjoyment  was 
compressed  into  that  period  !  What  hopes  and  plans 
of  future  meetings  there  or  in  the  city.  How  the 
packet  was  to  be  charged  with  parcels  to  Mr.  Hedding's 
care  for  me;  and  in  return,  how  I  imagined  myself 
picking  up  now  and  then  a  choice  book,  or  a  gem  of  a 
picture,  or,  with  Mr.  Huntley's  help,  a  piece  of  rare 
music  to  delight  these  dear  souls,  in  this  secluded  little 
house.  At  last  the  morning  of  the  day  came.  The 

Colonel   was   to   accompany   me   to  ,  and   his 

second  foreman,  a  very  gentlemanly,  quiet  man,  was  to 
act  as  my  escort  to  the  city,  whither  he  had  to  go  on 

^siness.  Bancroft  Library 

When  I  parted  from  Eleanore,  her  swimming  eyes 
smiled  into  mine  as  she  said,  "I  hope  I  am  not  af- 
flicting myself  so  much  in  vain,  Anna.  Keep  your 
heart  alive,  dear  friend,  and  think  what  a  bright,  beau- 
tiful, and  sufficient  world  home  is  to  a  woman."  The 
calmly  spoken  words  startled  me,  and  returned  to  my 
inner  ear,  hours  afterward,  in  the  heat  of  that  day. 
Was  I  traveling  toward  a  bright  and  peaceful  home  ? 
I  asked  myself,  with  a  vague,  wide  wandering  of  my 
imagination  into  the  future.  There  came  also  an  occa- 
sional memory  of  the  past — streaks  of  something  like 
light  across  that  misty  expanse.  On  the  whole,  my 
journey  was  accomplished  in  a  state  of  mind  pretty 
nearly  balanced  between  expectation  and  pleasing 
memories.  I  had  at  the  least  a  new  home  and  new 
persons  before  me,  and  if  life  should  offer  me  nothing 


504  THE    IDF. AT,   ATTAINED. 

more  than  it  had  already,  a  perpetual  membership  in 
the  beloved  household  I  had  just  left,  that  indeed  was 
much.  But  why  was  it  not  now,  as  it  would  once 
have  been,  enough  ?  Why  did  I  look  beyond  ? 

When  we  reached  the  Hotel  du  Nord,  I  was  follow- 
ing my  companion,  Mr.  Burney,  up  stairs,  to  the  par- 
lor, when  we  met  Mr.  Hedding  going  down.  His 
undisguised  pleasure  in  meeting  me,  his  hearty  cor- 
diality, and  his  endless  praises  of  Mrs.  Anderson's  gen- 
erosity and  kindness  in  urging  my  coming,  quite  touched 
my  heart.  So  much  appreciation,  so  much  pleasure 
derived  from  my  presence,  warmed  my  blood  into 
strange  pulsations.  Would  it  not  be  happiness  always 
to  be  able  so  to  give  happiness  ? 

I  retired  late,  but  did  not  even  then  sleep  till  I  had 
questioned  myself  thus  many  times,  and  recalled  many 
times  the  earnest,  lingering  clasp,  in  which  my  hand 
had  been  taken  that  night. 

The  next  day  I  was  installed  in  my  new  post,  but 
although  I  liked  my  employers  much,  and  they  liked 
me,  and  the  children  were  particularly  fond  of  me,  I 
remained  there  only  four  months.  At  the  end  of 
that  time,  I  received  the  following  short  note  from 
Eleanore : 

"  VALVEKDE. 

"  Your  cards  were  received  with  great  joy,  dear 
Anna.  Leo  and  I  have  talked  of  nothing  else  all  the 
evening.  We  have  laid  all  sorts  of  delightful  plans  for 
your  future  days,  which  we  feel  assured  cannot  fail  to 
be  happy.  If  they  are  as  much  so  as  you  both  deserve, 
and  we  wish  they  should  be,  you  could  not,  I  am  sure, 
ask  more.  As  this  will  not  reach  you  till  after  the 
wedding  day,  let  it  bring  to  your  home  the  assurance 
of  our  congratulations,  and  of  my  joyous,  heart-felt 
sympathy  with  you,  dear  friend,  in  this  long-deferred 


THE    IDEAL    ATTAINED.  505 

experience.  I  feel  happier  in  thinking  of  YOU  as  the 
wife  of  that  good,  noble,  genial  man,  than  1  should  if 
you  had  been  placed  upon  a  throne,  and  thereby  cut 
off  from  following  your  heart  in  this  leaning  of  it.  Leo 
and  I  hope  to  see  you  before  the  rainy  season  sets  in. 
Will  you  not  come  to  us  ?  Phil  begs  for  a  visit,  and 
Antonio  smiles  brightly  when  your  name  is  spoken, 
and  seems  to  approve  as  warmly  as  any  one  of  us  the 
new  relation. 

"  Our  hearts  are  full  of  love  and  hope  for  you,  and 
here  is  the  little  queenly  flower  of  pure  white — cyclo- 
bothra,  Leo  calls  it — which  he  has  carefully  pressed  to 
offer  you.  Put  it  in  your  herbarium,  and  under  it 
write  the  language  which  he  intends  it  to  express 
to  you  from  himself:  'May  you  be  happy  and  be- 
loved as  I  am/  It  is  the  type  of  a  victorious,  exulting 
heart,  and  never  had  any  a  better  right  than  he  to 
send  it,  unless  it  were  your  rejoicing  friend, 

ELEANORE." 


CHAPTER   LX. 

I  shall  give  you  but  one  more  short  letter  from 
Eleanore,  though  I  have  large  files  of  them.  She  is 
now  living  at  one  of  the  two  important  points  on  the 
globe  where  capital,  employed  by  intellect  and  know- 
ledge, is  subduing  the  hindrances  to  material  civiliza- 
tion. Her  husband  is  engaged  there  in  work  which 
will  record  his  name  to  future  ages.  I  have  many  of 
her  letters  from  that  place,  but  this  is  written  in  an- 
swer to  my  last,  informing  her  of  the  birth  of  this  little 
Eleanore  Hedding : 

"  On  the  whole,"  she  says,  after  giving  me  her  ear- 
nest congratulations  and  some  particulars  relating  to 
themselves,  "  on  the  whole,  my  dear  Anna,  I  am  glad 
your  child  is  a  daughter.  You  are  beyond  any  proba- 
bility— I  hope  any  possibility  of  want ;  and  a  daughter 
comes  so  very  near  to  a  mother's  heart  by  the  sympa- 
thies which  fall  between  women,  that  I  think,  other 
things  being  equal,  her  life  will  enrich  your  age  more 
than  a  son's  would.  A  happy  woman's  experience  is, 
I  sometimes  fear,  richer  than  any  man's  can  be.  Is 
not  mine  more  so  than  Leonard's,  I  wonder  ?  Can  I 
be  so  much  to  him  as  he  is  to  me  ?  I  will  to  be  every 
day,  when  I  feel  the  wealth  of  his  love,  but  I  fear  I 
must  fall  short. 

u  We  are  still,  dear  Anna,  the  same  lovers  as  when 
you  were  with  us  in  the  dear  old  mountain-home, 
there  is  such  a  fine  and  subtile  influence  flowing  from 
his  life  into  my  soul !  I  feel  it  in  the  presence  with 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  507 

which  he  is  clothed  in  approaching  me.  I  feel  it  in 
his  voice,  and  in  the  outpouring  tenderness  which  he 
bears  to  every  living  creature.  As  a  man,  he  gains 
year  by  year  in  the  completeness  of  the  nature  I  first 
loved.  One  feels  in  him  so  clearly,  now,  the  great, 
strong  soul,  at  home  and  on  easy  terms  with  its  mag- 
nificent tenement,  the  body,  which  is  equally  at  home 
and  at  ease  with  the  material  world. 

"  If  there  is  any  fault  to  be  laid  at  his  door,  it  is, 
perhaps,  that  he  is  too  religiously  proud  of  our  daugh- 
ters— though  it  would  be  difficult  to  see  how  one  could 
help  that,  and  they  such  children  as  they  are. 

"  Nellie,  who  is  now,  you  know,  past  five,  is  wild, 
and  grand,  and  imaginative,  and  tender,  and  terrible, 
all  in  one,  like  the  mountains  that  watched  over  and 
whispered  to  her  before  she  was  born.  And  I  think 
the  spirit  of  that  dear,  blessed  old  Whitehouse  piano 
lives  in  her  little  soul,  she  is  so  full  of  music — trilling 
parts  of  choruses  and  snatches  and  cadences  all  day 
long,  as  a  forest-bird  its  notes ;  so  that  her  father  thinks 
he  never  did  a  wiser  or  truer  thing  than  surprising  me 
with  it,  as  you  remember  he  did,  so  charmingly. 

"  i  We  made  ourselves  a  beneficent  Providence  to 
her,  did  we  not  ?'  he  asks,  as  we  watch  her  tiny  fingers 
playing  over  the  keys  of  our  grand  new  instrument. 

"  She  has  played  more  than  a  year,  and  actually 
gets  through  several  little  pieces  of  Phil's,  though  I 
have  never  shown  her  where  to  find  a  single  key.  " 

"  Dear  Phil,  no  less  precious  and  beloved  by  each 
of  us  than  he  was,  has  constituted  himself,  in  right  of 
his  age,  Nellie's  care-taker ;  and  nothing  can  be  more 
charming  than  to  see  them  strolling  along  the  beach, 
hand  in  hand — for  Phil  never  lets  go  of  her  there — 
when  the  tide  is  out — gathering  shells  and  delighting 
in  the  endless  frolic  of  the  waters. 

"  Nellie  is  poetical,  too,  and  loves  to  personify  the 
sea,  finding  in  it  many  of  the  attributes  of  her  human 
idols ;  but  with  all  this,  Phil  cannot  persuade  her  that 
the  water  stood  up  on  each  side  to  let  Moses  and  his 
host  pass  through.  She  insists  that  their  passage  must 
have  been  effected  by  means  of  a  *  'tanal.' 


508  THE    IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

"  '  But,  Nellie,  don't  I  tell  you  there  couldn't  be  a 
canal  in  the  middle  of  the  sea  !  and  folks  go  in  boats 
on  canals.  They  don't  walk  or  ride,  as  Moses  did.' 

"  '  Well,  then,  wasn't  it  a  dry  tanal,  like  papa's, 
Phil?' 

"  And  then  Phil  says,  despairingly  :  '  Oh,  dear — if 
you  was  a  boy,  Nellie,  you'd  understand  it.' 

"  Bertha,  who  is  now  well  on  in  her  second  year, 
bids  fair  to  be  quite  another  sort  of  character.  She  is 
a  miracle  of  beauty,  with  large,  joyous  blue  eyes — so 
like  her  father — and  golden  hair  that  lays  in  loose  coils 
all  over  her  beautiful  head,  and  a  mouth  so  sweet,  yet 
spirited,  even  at  this  age,  that  we  often  laugh  at  her 
little  demonstrations — Leo  and  I — and  say  :  '  How 
like  that  is  to  Phil !' 

"  She  is  born  of  a  more  tranquil  condition,  to  which 
I  had  grown  interiorly  in  those  years  of  deep-settled 
happiness,  as  well  as  attained  externally  by  the  changed 
conditions  of  our  life.  She  will  have  more  native  re- 
pose, I  think,  than  her  sister;  and  it  seems  to  me  that, 
for  the  artist  in  Nellie,  may  be  substituted,  in  Bertha, 
the  more  serious,  earnest,  loving  nature  of  the  philan- 
thropist. 

"  It  may  seem  absurd  to  you,  dear  friend,  that  I 
should  thus  speculate  upon  the  probable  character  of  a 
young  child.  But  it  is  not,  as  you  will  know  when 
your  own  daughter  has  added  some  months  to  her  age. 
You  will  see  prophecies,  even  then,  of  her  future ;  and, 
beside,  if  you  have  been  true  to  God  and  her,  before 
she  saw  the  light,  you  already  ~know  something  of  what 
you  have  done  for  her. 

"  You  remember  how  high-strung,  keen,  variable, 
yet  centered  upon  ourselves,  was  my  spiritual  life  be- 
fore Nellie  came  to  us — how  all  my  little  artistic  power 
was  in  vivid  and  joyous  play — how  I  breathed  in  the 
genius  of  that  wonderful  mountain-world — all  its  poetry, 
all  its  terrors  of  storm  and  tempest,  as  well  as  its  genial 
sunshine  and  tenderness.  They  were  all  daguerreo- 
typed  in  her  being,  and  are  now  showing  themselves 
to  us  every  day. 

"  But  the  intervening  years  calmed  and  settled  me 


THE   IDEAL    ATTAINED.  509 

much.  I  looked  out  upon  the  world  with  a  clearer 
vision.  Its  suffering  appealed  to  me — its  great  move- 
ments stirred  my  comprehensive  powers  to  lay  hold  of 
and  harmonize  them  with  my  own  hopes  of  human 
progress ;  but  chiefly  my  sympathies  were  in  exercise, 
toward  those  who  were  less  happy  than  ourselves,  and 
toward  the  millions  who  are  yearly  being  born  to  per- 
versions and  pains  and  incapacity,  for  want  of  the  light 
I  enjoyed. 

"Therefore  I  know,  independent  of  the  expression 
of  baby  deeds — which  may  mean  as  much  as  the  deeds 
of  the  man  or  woman  —independent  of  broken,  lisping 
chatter,  betraying  the  secret  springs  of  sympathetic 
tenderness — independent  of  the  calmness  and  almost 
grandeur  of  self-poise  we  sometimes  see,  with  waters  of 
inexpressible  gratitude  in  our  eyes — I  know,  I  say,  in- 
dependent of  all  these  imperfect  proofs,  that  Bertha  is 
born  to  a  life  of  earnest,  loving  uses.  The  need  to  per- 
form them  has  grown  into  her  body  and  soul  from 
mine.  She  cannot  live  without  them. 

"  Do  not  laugh  at  me  for  this.  You  will  one  day 
'know  it  as  the  divinest  and  highest  truth  upon  which 
our  life  can  lay  hold  for  its  practical  healing  and  purifica- 
tion— so  exalted  and  revered  is  the  office  of  womanhood. 

"  Antonio  remains  with  us — the  same  self-sacri- 
ficing, watchful,  faithful  creature  that  you  knew  him. 
When  I  left  my  room,  after  Bertha  was  born,  leaning 
upon,  or,  rather,  in  Leonard's  arm,  the  poor  fellow 
came  to  meet  and  congratulate  me,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes.  '  Madame  have  three  now,'  he  said ;  4  rich  wo- 
man— very  rich  ;  so  handsome  and  good.' 

"  I  hardly  knew  whether  the  praise  applied  to  my- 
self or  my  children,  which  doubt,  when  I  suggested  it 
to  Leonard,  he  said  could  only  arise  from  sheer  and 
excessive  vanity,  which,  considering  all  things,  he  must 
be  allowed  to  express  his  wonder  at. 

"  We  have  plenty  of  room  here,  dear  friend,  and  I 
wish  you  and  our  good  Mr.  Hedding  and  the  young- 
lady  who  has  appropriated  my  name,  could  come  to 
share  some  of  it  with  us.  There  is  the  nursery  to  the 
left  of  my  room,  and  Leo's  to  the  right,  with  his  dressing- 


510  THE   IDEAL   ATTAINED. 

room  beyond  ;  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  house  is 
a  corresponding  suite,  which  I  would  that  you  were  in 
to-day.  Ours  overlook  the  bright  sea,  and  the  blue, 
distant  mountains  ;  and  when  Leonard  and  I  sit  there 
by  ourselves,  voicelessly  talking,  as  we  sometimes  do, 
to  each  other,  in  our  souls,  I  think — looking  on  the 
great,  grand  world  before  me,  and  feeling  what  my 
heart  leans  on  there — that  God  indeed  is  Love. 

"  i  Have  not  our  lives  proved  it  so,  dearest  soul  ?' 
I  said,  one  day. 

" '  My  own  wife,'  he  replied,  taking  me  very  close 
to  his  heart,  in  uttering  the  words,  '  we  have  proved 
God's  love  in  all  the  common  gifts  of  life  that  have  been 
ours  ;  but  more  richly  than  any  man  have  I  proved  it, 
in  finding  thee  so  dowered  in  the  soul  he  gave  thee,  as 

ferfectly  to  husband  all  that  life  could  bring  to  us. 
owe  thee  a  debt  for  the  sweet  firmness  and  high 
honor  of  thyself  and  me,  that  have  preserved  this  love 
blooming  in  my  heart  as  freshly  now  as  on  the  day, 
long  ago,  when  I  sought  to  make  thee  mine ;  I  owe 
thee  a  debt  as  the  mother  of  our  matchless  children  ; 
I  owe  thee  a  debt  for  the  grand  religions  culture 
wherein  my  soul  has  risen  toward  God,  with  thine ; 
I  owe  thee  a  debt  for  the  faith  them  hast  given  me  in 
the  capacities  and  destiny  of  man  ;  almost  I  owe  thee 
my  own  clear  and  unwavering  trust  in  God  and  the 
future,  which  I  feel  to  be  so  sufficient  an  armor  against 
the  poisoned  arrows  of  sorrow,  should  they  ever  search 
me  out.  How  shall  I  pay  thee  all  this,  sweet  one  ?' 
"  '  So,'  I  replied,  holding  his  generous  heart  to 


THE    EXD. 


A  Book  for  the   Century! 

WOMAN  AND  HER  ERA. 

BY  MRS.  ELIZA  W.  PARNHAM. 

2  Volumes,  12mo?  nearly  8OO  pages. 


The  Publishers  take  pleasure  in  calling  the  especial 
attention  of  readers  and  thinkers  to  this  able  and  compre- 
hensive work.  It  is  original  in  its  character,  fundamental 
in  the  treatment  of  its  subject,  and  masterly  in  style.  It 
aims  not  simply  at  discussion,  but  fearlessly  seeks  an  actual 
solution  of  the  great  question  which  has  agitated  the  intel- 
ligent world  so  broadly  for  many  years  past. 

The  author  offers  it — so  says  her  Preface — as  the  result 
of  twenty-two  years'  earnest  thought,  study  and  reception — 
a  period  long  enough  to  give,  of  itself,  a  measure  of  value 
to  her  labors  that  cannot  fail  to  claim  the  attention  of  the 
inquiring,  the  earnest  and  the  thoughtful. 

Mrs.  Farnham  is  well  known  as  a  philanthropist,  and 
widely  acknowledged  as  "  one  of  the  ablest  and  clearest 
thinkers  of  the  day" — "  a  woman  who  has  not  many  equals, 
and  but  very  few  superiors  of  either  sex." 

The  Publishers  do  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  this  crown- 
ing-piece of  a  score  of  years'  faithful  labor,  one  of  tho 
ablest  works  on  the  subject  ever  written — if  not,  indeed, 
Ute  greatest  book  on  Woman  extant.  Never  before  has 


2  WOMAJf    AND    RKli,   EKA. 

there  appeared  a  work   so  entirely  original,  so  ample,  ex- 
haustive and  fundamental,  upon  this  important  question. 

The  author's  treatment  of  the  subject  differs  from  that 
of  writers  who  have  heretofore;  in  broken  and  fragmentary  dis- 
sertations, attempted  a  description  of  Woman's  "  Right's, 
Duties  and  Sphere."  "Woman  and  Her  Era"  is  in  no 
true  sense  a  treatise  upon  the  "  Rights  of  Woman,"  neither 
a  homily  upon  her  "  duties,"  nor  yet  a  discussion  of  her 
"  proper  sphere."  Its  purpose  is  deeper  and  broader  than 
all  these.  It  is  a  calm,  candid,  thoroughly  rational  and 
fundamental  inquiry  into  the  NATURE  OF  WOMAN — a  con- 
siderate and  exhaustive  analysis  by  Woman,  of  her  own 
exalted  nature  and  office,  and  the  relations,  responsibilities, 
privileges,  duties  and  possibilities  consequent  thereupon. 

The  work  takes  the  highest  ground  yet  claimed  for 
Woman,  viz. :  her  innate  superiority. 

In  support  of  this  startling  position  the  author  does  not 
sentimentalize  or  argue  merely,  but  critically  examines 
every  leading  point,  with  a  purpose  toward  absolute  demon- 
stration. The  analysis  is  made  seriatim,  beginning  with 
the  Organic  Statement,  which  will  have  to  be  sharply 
handled  and  very  closely  dissected  to  be  successfully  con 
troverted.  Following  this  we  have  the  Religious,  Esthetic, 
Historical  and  Intellectual  divisions  into  which  the  subject 
naturally  falls.  The  work  closes  by  setting  forth  the 
Divine  Purpose  in  the  higher  endowment  of  Woman,  viz., 
the  performance  of  a  Divine  Artistic  Maternity — the  very 
noblest  service,  the  author  claims,  that  can  be  rendered 
to  humanity  by  any  earthly  being. 

The  book  has  a  powerful  appeal  to  Woman,  not  simply 
as  its  subject,  but  as  its  subject  made  illustrious  by  the 
treatment  she  receives,  and  by  the  measure  and  character 
of  the  responsibility  shown  to  be  hers  in  the  strictly  natural 
woman-offices. 

In    its    faithful    trust    in    the    sufficiency  of  Woman's 
nature  to  vindicate   the  dignity  of  Woman,  lies  one  of  the 


WOMAN    AND   HER   EBA.  3 

brightest  characteristics  and  chief  elements  of  strength  iu 
this  important  work. 

The  author  does  not  believe  that  Woman  is  to  improve 
by  likening  herself  to  Man,  but,  on  the  contrary,  by  the 
most  complete  development  of  the  elements  and  powers 
of  every  sort  which  both  distinguish  and  contra-distinguish 
her  from  him.  And  this  not  in  a  light,  sneering,  or  con- 
temptuous spirit  toward  the  masculine  nature,  but  in  earnest 
loyalty  toward  the  feminine,  whose  day  of  high  use  and 
genuine  help  for  humanity  the  author  believes  is  just  now 
approaching. 

In  the  unqualified  commendation  which  the  publishers 
do  not  hesitate  to  give  this  work,  as  challenging  the  world's 
respectful  and  earnest  consideration,  they  need  not  be  under- 
stood as  indorsing  all  the  positions  or  conclusions  of  the 
author.  It  is  not  their  purpose  or  wish  to  enter  upon  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  correctness  of  all  the  claims  here  made  for 
woman.  The  author  speaks  for  herself  in  language  easily 
understood,  and  to  this  clear  presentation  of  her  own  ori- 
ginal views,  the  Publishers  invite  the  candid  attention  of 
the  thoughtful,  sincere  truth-seeker,  persuaded  that  what- 
ever of  truth  or  error  may  lie  within  the  pages  of  the  work, 
its  perusal  and  the  careful  examination  of  all  the  grounds 
assumed  and  maintained  can  be  neither  hurtful  nor  danger- 
ous to  any  mind,  but  on  the  contrary  prove  of  service  to 
every  man  or  woman  of  sufficient  intelligence  to  comprehend 
its  ennobling  lessons. 


"WOMAN  AND  HER  ERA"  is  published  in  two 
elegant  12mo  volumes.  Price  S3  ;  Extra  gilt,  $4 ;  Two 
vols.  in  one,  Library  sheep,  $3  50. 

Copies  sent,  prepaid,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 
Address  C.  M.  PLUMB  &  CO., 

274  Canal  Street,  New  York. 


An  Autobiography  of  the  Author  of  "  Woman  and  her  Era/' 


JUST  PUBLISHED. 

ELIZA    WOODSON; 

OR    THE 

Early  Days  of  one  of  the  World's  Workers. 


A  STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LIFE. 


The  publishers  invite  attention  to  this  newly  published  volume, 
as  a  fit  companion  to  "  Woman  and  her  Era."  The  one  giving 
the  facts  of  the  author's  early  years,  introducing  the  life-story  of 
a  brave,  resolute  spirit,  endowed  with  unmistakable  genius,  which 
no  weight  of  oppression  could  long  deter  from  asserting  itself. 
The  other  furnishing  the  rich  fruitage  of  such  a  rare  nature,  the 
valuable  results  of  many  years'  thought  and  experience. 

Those  who  have  read  "  "Woman  and  her  Era,"  cannot  fail  to 
experience  an  eager  desire  for  more  knowledge  of  the  early  life 
of  the  author — for  the  particulars  of  her  hopes,  aspirations,  trials, 
disappointments,  consequent  struggles,  and  ultimate  triumph. 

On  the  other  hand,  every  reader  introduced  to  the  life-record 
of  so  earnest,  resolute,  and  lofty-purposed  a  child  as  is  embodied 
in  the  character  of  the  young  "  Eliza,"  in  the  autobiography  here 
noticed,  will  the  better  appreciate  and  understand  her  mature 
womanhood,  and  experience  an  enlarged  respect  for  what  she  is 
and  has  done. 

The  excellence  of  the  volume  as  an  artistic  creation,  and  its 
value  as  a  lesson  to  young  and  old,  will  appear  from  the  follow- 
ing critical  notices  which  have  already  been  awarded  it. 

"  Mrs.  Farnham  is  one  of  the  ablest  and  clearest  thinkers  of 
the  day,  and  the  book  is  written  in  her  best  style.  She  instructs 
in  the  principles  of  a  profound  philosophy  and  pure  morality 
while  writing  the  every-day  experiences  of  a  young  but  oppressed, 
spirit,  struggling  with  high  aspirations  against  vulgar  surround- 
ings and  brutal  task-masters.  It  is  a  very  superior  book." 

[San  Francisco  Daily  Times. 

"  "We  took  up  this  volume  just  as  the  lamps  were  lighted,  and 
the  children  were  dropping  off  to  sleep  in  their  little  beds,  and 
when  we  laid  it  down,  the  dawn  of  another  day  was  looking  in  af 
the  windows.  It  had  cost  us  the  loss  of  a  night's  sleep. 

"  Since  reading  '  Jane  Eyre,'  of  which,  though  different,  it  con- 
stantly reminded  us,  we  have  read  nothing  in  the  way  of  autobi- 
ography half  so  interesting — nothing  in  the  way  of  fiction  half  so 
thrilling." — New  Covenant. 


**  If  this  story  be  true,  the  author  has  contrived  to  render  a 
narrative  of  actual  life  as  entertaining  as  any  work  of  fiction;  if 
fictitious,  she  has  learned  the  greatest  secret  of  all  art — to  conceal 
art  and  imitate  nature  most  closely  and  successfully." — N.  Y.  Atlas 

"  All  young  girls,  we  think,  ought  to  read  this  remarkable 
book.  It  contains  the  mental  experience  of  a  little  girl,  deep  and 
full  of  subtile  emotions,  enough  so  to  task  the  lore  of  a  sage. 

"  In  the  discrimination  of  her  characters,  the  author  has 
shown  power  not  inferior  to  the  creation  of 'Jane  Eyre.'  *  *  * 
It  possesses  an  interest  the  reader  cannot  shake  off." — N.  Y.  Express. 

"  Mrs.  Farnham  has  long  been  known  and  respected  by  us, 
and  we  have  always  been  of  the  opinion  that  she  had  not  many 
equals,  and  but  very  few  superiors,  of  either  sex.  Yet  of  her 
child-life  we  were  ignorant ;  but  now  that  we  know  so  well  her 
strong  heart,  and  her  warm,  tender  sympathies,  we  are  exceed- 
ingly interested  in  reading  the  incidents  of  her  early  days,  which 
exhibited  the  germ  of  what  has  since  been  developed.  *  *  * 
We  cannot  describe  the  book,  but  wish  it  could  be  read  by  every- 
body, for  it  is  pure  fact ;  not  a  fictitious  story,  written  merely  to 
entertain  the  reader  for  a  time." — Life  Illustrated. 

"  ELIZA  WOODSON"  is  a  story  which  cannot  fail  to  awaken 
the  liveliest  interest  of  every  reader.  The  most  highly  wrought 
tales  of  fiction  fade  into  insignificance  beside  this  vivid  drama  of 
real  life. 

Seldom  do  we  meet  a  volume  which  can  be  read  so  advan- 
tageously by  both  children  and  adults — few  are  there  so  en- 
couraging in  their  effect  on  youthful  aspirations  toward  excellence. 
The  book  will  be  found  not  only  entirely  unexceptionable  in 
style,  plot,  and  incident,  but  a  work  which,  while  it  attracts  by  its 
graphic  interest,  cannot  fail  to  elevate  and  instruct,  inaugurating, 
in  an  eminent  degree,  a  New  Era  in  Fiction. 

Without  trenching  upon  theological  grounds,  or  obtruding  any 
obnoxious,  mystical,  or  even  doubtful  tenet  of  faith,  the  book  por- 
trays with  great  fidelity  the  perils  of  a  young  and  thoughtful 
nature,  exposed  to  the  teachings  of  blind  infidelity,  and  the  light, 
strength,  and  true  faith  inspired  by  diviner  lessons.  The  book  is 
one  which  no  person  can  read  without  profound  interest,  and 
neither  old  nor  young  can  rise  from  its  perusal  without  feeling 
helped  to  nobler  purposes  and  truer  action. 

An  Elegant  12mo,  425  pages.    Frioe  $1  50. 

|3P  A  liberal  discount  to  the  Trade.  Single  copies  sent  by 
mail,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  the  price.  Address 

0.  M.  PLUMB  &  CO.,  Publishers, 
23  274  Canal  Street,  New  York. 


[From  the  Atlantic  Monthly.] 

1.  Woman  and  her  Era.     By  ELIZA  W.  FARNHAM. 

2.  Eliza  Woodson;  or,  The  Early  Days  of  One  of  theWorld'sWorkers. 

In  the  three  and  a  half  centuries  since  Cornelius  Agrippa,  no  one 
has  attempted  with  so  much  ability  as  Mrs.  Farnham  to  transfer  the 
theory  of  woman's  superiority  from  the  domain  of  poetry  to  that  of 
science.  Second  to  no  American  woman  save  Miss  Dix  in  her  experi- 
ence as  a  practical  philanthropist,  she  has  studied  human  nature  in 
the  sternest  practical  schools,  from  Sing-Sing  to  California.  She 
justly  claims  for  her  views  that  they  have  been  maturing  for  twenty- 
two  years  of  "experience  so  varied  as  to  give  it  almost  every  form  of 
trial  which  could  fall  to  the  intellectual"  life  of  any  save  the  most 
tavored  women."  Her  books  show,  moreover,  an  ardent  love  of 
literature,  and  some  accurate  scientific  training — though  her  style  has 
the  condensation  and  vigor  which  active  life  creates,  rather  than  the 
graces  of  culture.  ******* 

The  difference  between  her  book  and  most  of  those  written  on  the 
other  side  is,  that  in  the  previous  cases  the  lions  have  been  the 
painte  -s,  and  here  it  is  the  lioness.  As  against  the  exaggerations  on 
the  other  side,  she  has  a  right  to  exaggerate  on  her  part.  As  against 
the  theory  that  man  is  superior  to  woman  because  he  is  larger,  she 
has  a  right  to  plead  that  in  this  case  the  gorilla  were  the  better  man, 
and  to  assert,  on  the  other  hand,  that  woman  is  superior  because 
smaller— Emerson's  mountain  and  squirrel.  As  against  the  theory 
that  glory  and  dominion  go  with  the  beard,  she  has  a  right  to  main- 
tain (and  that  she  does  with  no  small  pungency)  that  Nature  gave 
man  this  appendage  because  he  was  not  to  be  trusted  with  his  own 
face,  and  needed  this  additional  covering  for  his  shame.  As  against 
the  historical  traditions  of  man's  mastery,  she  does  well  to  urge  that 
creation  is  progressive,  and  that  the  megalosaurus  was  master  even 
before  man.  It  is,  indeed,  this  last  point,  which  constitutes  the 
crowning  merit  of  the  book,  and  which  will  be  permanently  associated 
with  Mrs.  Farnham's  name.  No  one  before  her  has  so  firmly  grasped 
this  key  to  woman's  historic  position,  that  the  past  was  an  age  of 
coarse,  preliminary  labor,  in  which  her  time  had  not  .yet  come.  This 
theory,  as  elucidated  by  Mrs.  Farnham,  taken  with  the  fine  statement 
of  Buckle  as  to  the  importance  of  the  intuitive  element  in  the  femi- 
nine intellect,  ( which  statement  Mrs.  Farnham  also  quotes,)  consti- 
tutes the  most  valuable  ground  logically  conquered  for  woman  within 
this  century.  These  contributions  are  eclipsed  in  importance  only  by 
those  actual  achievements  of  women  of  genius— as  of  Elizabeth  Bar- 
rett Browning  Rosa  Bonheur,  and  Harriet  Hosmer— which,  so  far  as 
they  go,  render  all  argument  superfluous. 

In  this  domain  of  practical  achievement  Mrs.  Farnham  has  also 
labored  well,  and  the  autobiography  of  her  childish  years,  when  she 
only  aspired  after  such  toils,  has  an  interest  wholly  apart  from  her 
larger  work,  and  scarcely  its  inferior.  Except  the  immortal  "Pet 
Mariorie,"  one  can  hardly  "recall  in  literature  a  delineation  so  marvel- 
ous of  a  childish  mind  so  extraordinary  as  "ELIZA  WOODSON.  The 
few  characters  appear  with  an  individuality  worthy  of  a  great  novel- 
ist. Every  lover  of  children  must  find  it  altogether  fascinating,  and 
to  the  most  experienced  student  of  human  nature  it  opens  a  new  chap- 
ter of  startling  interest.  24 
" 


